


A Hundred Years in the Making

by zombolouge



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Adventure, Childhood friends being friends, F/M, Gerudo politics because reasons, Goddamn good and pure Gerudo matriarchy, Horse horse, Impa and Sota are responsible for fifty percent of all sarcasm in Hyrule, Impa definitely has all the good ideas up her sleeve, Link is not great at combat yet, Link makes a friend, Mipha tries to be hopeful, Mysterious technology, Rhoam don't do it, Rhoam no, Rhoam stop, Ruining horse names for everyone, Science by accident, Sheikah shenanigans, Sota can apparently drink enough juice to kill a horse, Urbosa is so awesome, Zelda is a nerd for ancient tech and it's the BEST, Zelda is competitive, [spooky noises], because there's always a catch, catchphrases that don't even mean anything, complications preventing quest fulfillment, gee I wonder if any of this will lead to trouble, it's hot in Eldin (surprise!), oh hey look we found some of the angst, parental woes, parents being very sad, plans have been made, prayer is not as easy as it looks, snark and sass and sarcasm, tags will update as the story progresses, the Divine Beasts are Purah's babies and she will FIGHT YOU, the possible threat of ancient and maybe mythical lizards, the slowest burn, this will be a slow burn, upcoming angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombolouge/pseuds/zombolouge
Summary: The story before the story began. A hundred and one years before, to be exact.





	1. The Greatest Knight

**Author's Note:**

> So, I became utterly obsessed with Breath of the Wild, and before I knew it I had all these ideas in my head that have molded themselves into this story. This will be the tale of everything that happened a hundred years prior to the game, including how they gathered the Champions and how Link managed to obtain the Master Sword (plus various other subplots because I have so many feelings about this game that it is overflowing). Also, you will not need to have any prior knowledge of Breath of the Wild, though at least a vague knowledge of the Zelda games in general might help (although still probably not necessary). 
> 
> And if you aren't familiar with my work, I will warn you: buckle up, this story is gonna go PLACES. 
> 
> MOUNT YOUR GIANT STEEDS, LADIES AND GENTS, AND LET US BEGIN THIS WILD RIDE.

It was a great, fluffy dragon. He squinted, holding his hand above his head so that the shadow fell across his eyes, but the cloud above definitely looked like some kind of dragon, wings of white extended out across a body of cottony bulges. There were endless stories passed down through the ages of great heroes fighting vicious dragons, but as the cloud drifted by, Link couldn’t understand them. Fighting, heroics, nobility won through the scourge of battle - it was all abstract to him. It was no more real than the words in the books that he had read growing up. They held his attention in momentary bursts, yet disappeared into nothingness again when he closed the cover. Dragons and combat were as intangible as the clouds above, and just as prone to fade with the lazy summer air.

The sky was an endless blue expanse before him, the wind wild as it brushed against the sapphire heights. He could smell the green hints of blooming trees and swaying grass as it was carried on the breeze, breathing life into the pleasant air. The strand of straw that he dangled between his lips tasted like baked sunlight, and the sound of crickets thrumming in the nearby bushes filled his ears. He resented the fact that amidst all of that, even when granted a rare day off from training while his father was out of town, even when given a blissful day of nothing to do and nowhere to be, the world still found a way to fill his head with a skill he had no wish to learn. He sighed, spitting the straw to the side and letting his hand fall back down in the grass so that the sunlight made his eyes fill with greenish-red splotches that danced on the back of his eyelids.

His father had handed him a sword when he had been barely old enough to walk, and started teaching him what to do with it with the same relish as he had when he taught him how to read. At first it had seemed like frivolity, a fun thing to do when there was little else to occupy their time, but when he had turned seventeen his father had announced it was time for him to begin training in earnest. It had been unexpected, and confusing, but Link had a love for his father that meant he would do a great deal to make him smile. So, he had stumbled out of bed before the sun each day to follow him out to the yard, getting blisters on his hands and bruises along his ribs, sweat leaking from every poor until dirt caught on the moisture and crusted over every inch of him.

He hated it. Well, perhaps _hate_ was a strong word, but he had to swallow a groan of misery each day the cuckoos crowed him out of bed. He had no desire to learn how to fight; no desire to pick up a blade and understand how to deal death. He had no desire to wear armor that clanked with every movement and weighed down his shoulders until he felt as though his spine would snap in two. He had no desire for the rigid schedule of his training, or the ever-increasing aches in his muscles as he was pushed to new heights whenever he started to adjust.

He knew that his lack of motivation showed in his progress, as well, which was a continual source of dissatisfaction to his father that Link wished he knew how to erase. He could see the disappointment swimming in his gaze every time Link flubbed a swing or fell on his face rather than counter. His father wanted more of him, but Link didn’t know how to give it. His heart just wasn’t in it. There were always a million different things he could think of that he would rather be doing, with his one roadblock between them being his father and his boisterous enthusiasm. It had been on his lips to say as much half a dozen times, but he would always shy away from it when he came close. Once it was out there, once he admitted that he didn’t want to be a knight, or a warrior, then he wouldn’t be able to take it back. And if he couldn’t take it back, then he would have to live with the sorrow that he knew it would instill in his father’s chest.

A spout of water slapped into his face and halted his trailing thoughts, the small torrent freezing compared to his sun-warmed skin. He coughed as a good portion of it worked its way into his nose and throat, making them burn as the smell of the pond invaded his senses. He sat up and sputtered while his shirt absorbed the run-off as it dribbled from his face and hair. He heard a subdued giggle from somewhere in front of him, and he reached up to wipe his eyes so that he could see clearly. There was a small dock that extended into the middle of Zelkoa pond, and there were a pair of amber eyes peering at him just over the edge of the aged wood. Dragonflies zipped above her head, the red scales of her scalp gleaming like rubies, and she giggled again when he narrowed his eyes at her.

“You looked so serious, I couldn’t help it.” the Zora placed her hands on the floor of the dock, pulling herself out of the water so that he could see her full face, an apologetic smile spread across her lips. “Besides, it’s quite hot today. I’ve likely saved you from a sunburn.”

He rolled his eyes. “I haven’t gotten a sunburn since I was seven, but hello to you too, Mipha.” He rolled off the cushy patch of grass that he had been laying in, standing and walking to the edge of the dock to look down at her, hands on his hips. “How did you even get in the pond?” He leaned forward, extending his hand out to her, and she took it and let him lift her up out of the water and onto the creaking wood.

“I walked, of course.”

“Of course.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Della’s little girl - I forget her name - told me that you weren’t training today, so I thought I might find you here.”

He ran his fingers through his damp hair, pulling it loose from the binding so he could shake out the extra moisture. “Yeah, my father went on some errand in central Hyrule and won’t be back for a few days.”

“I see. Bit of a vacation? I never thought I’d see the day Vallus would let you take a break.”

Link snorted. “No kidding.” He looked back at her, quirking an eyebrow upward. “Speaking of fathers, does _yours_ know where you are today? I thought he said Hateno was too far to travel for daily visits anymore.”

The tops of her cheeks turned a darker shade of red than the rest of her, which made him grin. “Oh, um, well, he of course knows I was going _out_. I may have neglected the part about coming _here_ first, but that is not…a lie…as such…and it’s hardly a _daily_ visit since I’ve not been out here for three days.” she chewed on her lip, distraught over her dishonesty, even if it was the smallest lie that Link could imagine telling.

He tried not to, but he couldn’t stop the laughter, reaching out to pat her head when she pouted. “Relax, Mipha. I’m sure he would have been fine with it if you had told him.”

“Hm. Perhaps.” She glanced up at the sky, watching the dragon-cloud that didn’t look as much like a dragon anymore drift further away towards one of the distant mountains.

“So, what brings you out, anyways?”

“Oh, right! I’m going fishing today. One of the shops in town is low on staminoka bass and is asking people to help out if they have any spare time, and I thought that it was a lovely day, so you might like to join me. If you’re not too busy, that is. I would understand if you had something else to do, of course, it’s just that I thought if you were free -”

“Sounds good!” he interrupted her endless sentence, knowing that if he didn’t cut it off when he had the chance she would ramble on nervously until she dissolved into anxious panic. He could never understand what triggered these moments of self-doubt and discomfort in her, but he often found that a smile and a kind word could make them dissipate easily enough. “Let me go change into something dry and we can head out.”

Her smile was radiant as she nodded in response, trailing after him as he worked his way to the path leading back to the village. It occurred to him as they went that this was the kind of life that he wanted. He wanted languid days beneath the sun, fishing trips with his best friend to help out the people in their villages. He wanted a small house on a hill, maybe a garden full of vegetables. He wanted to build all that as far away from a sword as he could possibly make it.

If only he could find a way to tell that to his father.

***

His bones ached as he made his way up the massive stone steps, creaking like they were bowstrings, ill-tended to and apt to snap. He had kept himself in peak physical condition even after he had retired, but no man could outrun the march of time. The grave called to him, whispering its coming arrival with every new throb or cramp that greeted him in the morning. He had years yet, but that didn’t stop the realization that it was looming before him from sinking into his stomach like cold iron. He was old, and no amount of strength could keep that fact from hurting the young man still trapped somewhere in his jaded mind.

The wind whistled through the gaps in his armor, the late afternoon sun glinting off the mirrored surface. He had stayed awake long into the night polishing it, ensuring it was in immaculate condition for his meeting today while he mulled over what it was he wanted to say. Sparks shot out of the edges of his boots as he clanged against the stonework, lifting himself up the last few steps and onto the battlements of the castle. Rhoam was there waiting for him, a regal sight as he stood with impeccable posture, massive hands clamped behind his back. He looked as much a king as he always had, though Vallus had long ago stopped teasing him for being royalty. The joke had been far less funny after Rhoam’s father had died and he had ascended to the throne. The King’s silver hair and ample beard stirred in the wind as it buffeted the walls of the castle they stood upon, and he watched as his old friend breathed in and out, deeply and slowly.

Vallus took up position next to the him, resting his hands on the bricks before them, mortared together ages ago to create the centerpiece of the kingdom. He gazed out at the view, with all of Hyrule spread before their silent gazes, a gleaming empire of peace and prosperity. There were a handful of clouds dotting the horizon, but otherwise the sun was uninhibited as it cascaded through the clear blue above their heads. Vallus wondered if Rhoam saw the shadows hiding behind the light as much as he did. Did he fear the oncoming storm? Did he fret about it as often, or as deeply?

“You look old.” Rhoam’s voice startled him out of his reverie, and he frowned as he turned to glare at him. Rhoam wasn’t looking at him yet, his eyes still on the wide-open world that he ruled, but Vallus thought he detected the faintest hint of sarcasm in the words.

“You got fat.” The quip rolled out of Vallus’ lips before he rightly knew what he was saying, but he decided before the sound had faded that he would stand by it. If the King of Hyrule had forgotten how to take a joke, Vallus would be happy to remind him.

The king rumbled out a laugh that started like drums and ended like thunder. “I have no recourse to argue with that fact. How are you, my friend?” Rhoam finally turned to look at him, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled.

“Old, apparently.” Vallus snorted. “I have seen worse days, though, and Lilly would have smacked me ‘round the back of the head for complaining.”

Rhoam chuckled. “She was the only person who could ever smack any sense into you.” His eyes grew unfocused, and Vallus knew that he was wandering the halls of their memories, recalling times when their loves had been alive, and they had been happy. “I am sorry that I could not attend the funeral.”

“You have apologized enough, I bear no grudges for it. Kings don’t attend the funerals of common-folk.”

“The wife of the greatest knight ever to have served me is by no means common.”

Vallus took a moment to let her memory wash over him. Her hair, spun of gold and glimmer, moving as though it had been filled with magic. Her eyes, the deepest color of blue that he had ever seen, brighter than any star and a thousand times more expressive. She had been the rarest thing to him, more precious than the whole world, right up until the moment she had delivered their sweet son. He swallowed, willing the grief to roll back down to manageable levels before he lost his composure. “No, you are correct. She had never been common.” He sighed, his breath shaking as it passed by his lips. “She was always convinced that you resented her for stealing me away, you know.”

“Ha! I lauded her for taking you off my hands. Amalia was like to arrange your marriage for you if you hadn’t settled down when you did. She kept insisting I would never have a good head about my shoulders with your influence ‘inciting the wild hairs’ ‘neath my crown.” The king laughed, and Vallus joined, but the mirth died quickly as the terrible pangs of loss intruded on their hearts once more. “I don’t know if I ever told you, but it broke our hearts when Liluth passed.”

“Mine too.” He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly in the hopes that the burning sensation would leave his eyes. “I was crushed to hear of Amalia’s death, as well.”

“I am crushed anew each day that I must rise and face this kingdom without her by my side.” He spoke fervently, and Vallus had no doubts that he meant the full gravity of the words he spoke. Rhoam had been tempestuous and foolhardy in his youth, rushing out on grand adventures and dragging Vallus along with him. It had seemed he had little care for his own hide until he had found Amalia. She had given him a reason to want to live, a reason to want to be the good man Vallus had known him to be when he wasn’t keen on burning through the days with excitement. Vallus had been aware that his friend had been lost from the minute he laid eyes on Amalia, though when he had seen how happy Rhoam was with her he had never been able to bring himself to be disappointed. Then, a year later, Liluth had walked into his life, and his chapter as a knight had come to an end. He had retired, settled down in a town that had barely started to grow from the mountainside, and given up his suit of armor for a good plow horse. He had married Liluth as quickly as she had allowed, and together they had prepared to raise a family.

Fate had other plans, however, and he didn’t think he could bring himself to forgive it for such.

“How fare’s Zelda?”

Rhoam’s brows came together above his nose in a glower that would have quelled a lesser man. “Stubborn. She grows frustrated easily, and does not apply herself to the tasks set before her unless they glow with that cursed Sheikah technology.”

“Isn’t that ‘cursed technology’ being heralded as Hyrule’s greatest protection? Our saving grace? Those great beasts your tearing out of the mountainsides are being called ‘divine’.”

Rhoam snorted. “I like that. ‘Divine Beasts’. That has a good ring to it.”

Vallus knew that he was trying to change the subject, but he felt compelled to plunge deeper into it regardless. “You should give her a break. There’s nothing wrong with her taking an interest in something that will save her kingdom.”

“You know as well as I do that the only thing that will save our kingdom is her ability to wield her inherited powers.” Rhoam scowled at the ground, and though his expression was filled with irritation, Vallus could still see the fear.

“She’s just turned sixteen, you can’t lay that on her shoulders.”

“Oh? And I should hide it from her instead?” the question was pointed enough that Vallus recognized it as a jab against his own parenting, but he let it slide away, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Perhaps better than crushing her spirit.”

It was a step too far, and Vallus could tell because Rhoam’s eyes clouded over, dark with anger. “You dare?” his words were a low growl, brushed away by the wind before they could roam beyond the confines of their conversation. “You are an old and valued friend, dear Vallus, but do not forget to whom you speak. I will not have any man stand here and question the choices I made with my wife in the raising of our daughter.”

Vallus sighed, sagging as he exhaled so that he felt like someone had pulled out all his spirit. “Rhoam, I meant no disrespect. I just…you know how I feel.”

Rhoam looked out across the kingdom before them, his eyes scanning over every hill and tree, as though taking stock of each thing at stake. “I have had extensive research done. We knew the base of it from the moment Amalia heard the goddess, but I wanted to know more. I tasked the best scholars in the world with the research, all under the guise of readiness.” He cleared his throat, the sound as heavy as the words he spoke. “In all the tales and all the legends, they always defeat the great evil, and their story ends. There is never a mention of a happily ever after. No one recorded whether the princess of myth lives on afterward. If she leads the kingdom, if she was just or kind. If she falls in love, or weds, or has children. No one mentions if she was ever able to smile again. I know not what will be in store for them, only that they must prevail, or all is lost. How else am I to react, but to prepare her to survive as best I can? If she lives, I can hope that there is another chapter beyond the end of the story. I can hope that she finds sunlight after sealing the darkness. It is the only way I know to be a father when my daughter is so much greater than I could have ever dreamed.”

“I know, old friend. I know it well. I have mulled over the same questions, time and time again. I have not the strength for it, as you do. How can I? How can a father tell his son what lay in wait for him? How can we, as parents, cope with the fact that their destinies require their intense suffering? I only want to grant him happiness, so how can I live with the fact that it may not have been possible from the moment he was born?”

“If you ever find the answer, I beg of you to share it.”

They lapsed into silence, both leaning on the comforting presence of the other. At the height of their days they had been strong, and proud. They had given their hearts to exceptional women, and it had seemed the world had granted them the greatest gifts. They had been fools, thinking that they had deserved such things. Fate had not only taken his wife, but it had damned his son in the same turn. Vallus would fight to spare him, if only he had an inkling as to how. He would happily turn his blade against any foe, strike down any villain that would dare lay hands upon his son, but there was no hope for it. He had not the power, and the enemies were invisible and as yet unannounced. As it stood, all he could do was teach him, and he was failing at even that.

“He is not ready.” Vallus broke the silence with his disparate news, letting it hang in the air for a heartbeat before plunging forward with the true purpose of his visit. “I have tried to train him, but he is a carefree boy. He has a good and noble spirit, but he does not take to battle like I would have thought. He would rather avoid violence, it would seem. I don’t think I have the heart to change that in him.”

Rhoam clasped his hands behind his back again, his gaze lifting to the sky as he considered the revelation. “The hour draws near. I can feel it. A chill on the wind that should not be, a shadow in the night shades darker than it ought to be. We are running out of time, my friend.” He sighed, breath heavy and morose. “Though my methods have fared no better. In truth, Zelda has been the most astute and studios pupil that anyone could ask for, dedicated far beyond the reason that should be afforded to her age, yet still her mother’s power eludes her. I know not what else to do to bring about her awakening.”

“I have a notion.” Vallus chuckled, though it rang hollow as the sound bounced around his clattering armor. “I wish to send Link to train with your knights. To have you put him through his paces, and instill in him the discipline that will build him into the man that he needs to become.”

Rhoam raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking to the side. “Did you not just call me an overbearing brute for treating my daughter with the very same attitude you request for your son?”

Vallus laughed, feeling the strain of their burdens ease just slightly as he did. “I am nothing if not a fool, my king. My opinion has always been worthless, more so since Lilly passed.”

“That I can relate to.” Rhoam inhaled slowly, the wind whipping his beard to and fro. “You hope that throwing them together will awaken their sense of purpose.” It was a statement, and not a question, though Vallus knew the king well enough to recognize that in truth it was a bit of both.

“Aye. Or, at the very least, get them acquainted before the time comes. Keeping them apart has not served them, so it is long past time that we tried something new.”

“Very well. It would need to be done at some point, I presume, so there is no time like the present. Send him to me immediately, I believe I have just the tasks to assign to him.”

Vallus nodded, and he could sense that their meeting was over without the customary goodbyes generally said amongst friends. Rhoam and Vallus never said farewell. It had started as a joke when Vallus had been his appointed knight, both of them knowing they would see the other more often than they saw anyone else, so it was ludicrous to say goodbye each time they parted ways. Eventually it had become a custom that neither was willing to breach. Farewells felt like an end, and neither of them were ever capable of admitting that an end had come. In this way, they would never have to admit how many days in their lives had passed, and that the era of their youth had found its sunset years ago.

He turned, heading back towards the long steps and away from the king, but he paused at the top, unable to make his legs move. He turned back, tilting his face halfway so that he could see Rhoam out of the corner of his eye. “In those stories, the princess always gets saved. Do you think…does the hero of legend ever get to meet his old age? Do you think this story, this happily ever after that you wish for, do you think Link will find his as well?”

“I wish for it as dearly as I do for hers…but all I have are wishes and hopes, and for that I am sorry.”

Vallus left then, their powerlessness making the tips of his ears burn as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was as story as old as the dirt beneath their towns and cities, a story told over and over so many times that no one had bothered to count. The great calamity known as Ganon would rise, intent on destroying the world, and a wise princess and brave warrior would foil his plans. If Rhoam was right, if Liluth had been right in her last moments, then it had happened so many times that it was all but common, though it didn’t feel that way.

He remembered reading the account of the war ten thousand years ago and thinking that it had sounded exciting. He had been jealous of a hero with a magic sword, capable of saving the world like no other could. He had remembered that story again when Liluth had told him that their son was that hero reborn, the next Link in the cycle that would churn Hyrule into the darkness and back out once more. He had held his son, small and squalling, big blue eyes full of wonder at the world, and he could no longer see the excitement, or the valor. Now he could only feel fear; all-consuming, breathtaking fear that the boy he had raised from a baby would be swallowed by that story and never seen again.

Yet there was no helping it. Liluth had known from the moment he was born, in that way that she had always known things no normal person had a right to. Their plans, their dreams, their precious family had been tossed into the ever-spinning hands of the clock, a time of need for Hyrule dashing their hopes as the insignificant things they were. They had planned on naming him Henry, but she had held him with shaking hands and announced that their child’s name was Link, as had been so many Links before him. Vallus knew the name didn’t matter, though he had argued against it, argued against the losing battle of accepting his son’s fate. Naming him something different would not have changed the life that was destined to find him. It was who he was: the hero of legend that would save the princess and fight the darkness.

His only wish in this world was that Link would remember to save himself, as well.

 

 


	2. Hardcore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda receives a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this chapter was supposed to be the first half of the next chapter but it got too long because I had WAY too much fun writing the Sheikah trio. This story is popping off the rails already guys, but I blame Robbie. I cannot be held responsible for what he does to the chapters he's in. XD

If her mind wandered, did that make her a terrible person?

_Blessed Goddess, hear my plea. Show me the way into the light, that you may guide me to your wisdom. Show me the path that you wish I tread, so that I may share it with the people that rely on me._

If she skipped a line, was she deserving of the deafening silence all around her?

_Blessed Goddess, hear my promise. I devote my being to you, to be your vessel. Fill me with the purpose that the world requires. Show me what it is that you wish of me, so that I may grant it with all haste._

If she didn’t mean a word of it, was she damning her kingdom?

She furrowed her brow, clasping her fingers together tighter to stop their shaking. Her hands were wrinkled around her palms, water seeping into every pore that it could reach. The white tendrils of her dress that were floating across the surface of the water had turned translucent, a veil of pale solitude against her skin. She felt as though the chill in the water had been made a part of her bones, never to be removed, yet still she remained, mired in concentration, begging for some sign that she was headed in the right direction. She was not sure how long she had been in the small room, though the stiffness in her back told her it had been some time. She had long ago learned to stop marking the minutes when she entered prayer, for knowing their number would only drive her mad.

She opened her eyes, peering up at the serene face of the statue before her. It remained unmoving, silent, everything that a statue should be to everyone else in the world. She, however, was not supposed to see a mere statue. She was supposed to see the immortalized representation of the goddess to which she had an unwavering connection. She was supposed to see the effigy that represented the source of her power, a light that could destroy the darkness and keep it from tainting their fair land.

A power that she could neither call nor use.

She swallowed back the bitterness that rose in the back of her throat at the path her thoughts had taken her. It was inaccurate, after all, to say that she saw simply a statue when she looked at the carved stone. She saw a sneering monument dedicated to her failure. She saw a frigid figure that refused to acknowledge her cries for help. She saw the image of a goddess that had deigned to steal her mother away a year before she was to help her understand this power that was supposed to be boiling in her blood.

Zelda had never fretted over the absence of her abilities while her mother had been alive. She had known, without a doubt, that whatever had kept her from discovering them as a child would be erased the moment she came under her mother’s tutelage. Her mother was a bastion of safety and hope, of encouragement that knew no bounds. Nothing more than her smile was needed to rekindle the motivation in those around her, to make the day pass more peacefully. Anything had seemed possible when her mother had smiled.

Now she stood alone in a room full of chilled water, hoping for a gift that she was certain had died in her the moment she had been born.

She sighed, lifting herself off her knees, wincing as the skin lanced with pain at the sudden release of pressure. The bruises that rested there were nigh permanent, ever-present due to her constant mistreatment she lavished on her limbs. Water ran in thick rivulets down the fabric of her dress and off the ends of her hair, turned a tarnished gold when it was wet, like a dimmed sun. As dim as her own potential. She unbuckled the heavy necklace strapped around her collar, setting it at the edge of the marbled pool. It reflected a yellow-gold blur of color in the ripples around her, and for a moment she stared at it, letting the arrhythmic pattern soothe the whirring of the anxious thoughts in her mind.

_You can do anything._

Her mother’s words flitted through her head, unbidden and unwelcome. Once a source of comfort, now they only brought her surety. Surety that she was a disappointment to her, just as she was a constant disappointment to her father.

“You’ll catch a cold if you stand in that miserable thing much longer.”

The voice jarred her out of her morose spiral, and she jumped as she glanced towards the door. She exhaled when she saw that it was Impa, leaning against the column framing the entrance, her arms crossed over her chest and her hips cocked to the side. She had her silver hair twisted into a tight bun atop her head, with a string of beads wound around the edges. Her eyes were full of mirth, and she was smirking as she regarded Zelda in her sodden misery.

“Would a cold please the goddess, do you think?” it was sacrilege to speak as such, but she had known Impa just long enough to be sure that the sleek researcher would not judge her for it.

Impa snorted a laugh that barely made a sound. “Dunno, have you tried it?” she moved from her position in the doorway, walking across the room by rolling on the bottom of her feet. Every flex of her muscles was filled with an effortless grace that Zelda could only dream of possessing. It reminded her of a cat, curving around the edges of the world with a silkiness afforded to creatures that preferred to dwell on the rim of others’ awareness. Impa had the impeccable ability to melt into the corners of a room and vanish, without anyone having ever known that the Sheikah had left. It was miraculous to Zelda, who wilted under the regard of so many eyes following her wherever she tread.

She lifted her drenched skirts and tiptoed up the steps of the wading pool, wincing at the squelching noises she made while moving. If Impa was a cat, that must make herself a fish, slapping uselessly after her with soggy fins and gaping jaw. The image was ludicrous, and for the first time since she had entered prayer around five hours ago, she felt her lips spread in a wry smile. She shook her head, refocusing her attention on the moment and the grinning Sheikah in front of her.

“Pardon my manners, lady Impa. Did you require something of me?”

Impa rolled her eyes. “Oh-ho, so it is back to the pomp and circumstance of the royal child, is it?” she waved her arm in a wide arc and performed an exaggerated bow, which was so over the top that Zelda had to stifle a giggle. “My kind and gracious princess, I would beg a moment of your valuable time, if you would be so charitable.”

“Oh stop it.” She swatted at the woman’s bun, though she missed when Impa deftly stepped to the side. “You know what I meant.”

Impa stood up straight once more, brushing invisible motes of dust off her deep purple attire. “Indeed. Jests aside, I _would_ like you to come with me. I have something to show you.”

“Is it about the machines? Did you find something?” her heart leaped into the base of her throat, every nerve in her mind coming alive at the possibilities she conjured. She had been working with the Sheikah researchers for a handful of weeks now, catching up on the known studies of the miraculous structures they had been unearthing from beneath their feet. Her father disapproved, but Zelda couldn’t help herself. She could spend days lost in an ancient tome if those around her would allow it.

Impa’s eyes sparkled, her own eagerness undisguised within them. “I’m not saying a peep until I’ve let you see it. It would spoil the fun otherwise.” She leaned over and tapped the side of Zelda’s nose, the grin on her face broadening into an open smile. “Now go change and meet me at the docks as soon as you’ve stopped dripping all over the place.”

Impa turned and shuffled out of the room, disappearing around the corner before Zelda had a chance to further question her. She gripped her heavy dress in her hands, lifting it well above her ankles so that she could walk at the quickest pace possible. She had reached the door before she remembered the necklace, an important part of the damnable religious garb that she donned twice a day to be ignored by the Goddess. She sighed with irritation as she halted her exit to turn back around and fetch it, the gold trinket molded into hard angles that bit the palm of her hand as she snatched it from its resting place.

She resumed her forward motion, racing through the halls and back to her chambers. She nodded in greeting to the knights patrolling the passages, avoiding eye contact to prevent any unwanted conversations. When she had reached the door of her room, she threw it open with more force than she had intended, losing grip on the handle and sending it clattering into the wall. She yelped, jumping away from the sound, and a knight poked his head around the corner, a questioning look in the eyes beneath his helm.

She waved, giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it slipped.”

“Yes, Princess.” He nodded, curt and officious, just as he had been trained, then ducked back around the other side of the wall. She exhaled in a great rush, rolling her eyes at her own impatience. The last thing she needed was someone reporting to her father that she had been behaving strangely. He was restrictive enough without thinking she was losing her grip on her sanity.

Once safely past the threshold of her room, she shut the door - carefully this time - and tossed the necklace into the silver dish beside her bed. It clattered with a metallic ring that filled the air as she rushed to her closet, pulling out a pair of warm pants and a soft, royal blue tunic. She threw the white gown over her head, letting it drop into a heap by her feet, and she shivered when the cold air brushed against her damp skin. She dressed as quickly as she was able, then salvaged what she could of her half-dried hair as she shoved her legs into her favorite leather boots.

Fully dressed, she checked herself quickly to ensure she hadn’t missed anything, patting her hips and pockets checking for the familiar bulge. When she couldn’t find it in her pockets she glanced around the room, finally spotting the ratty book with papers akimbo resting on her desk. She skipped across the chamber and grabbed it, tucking the loose parchments into a safer order before she bounded back to the door and out into the hall.

Her rush was halted after several steps when her father turned the corner, the heavy hem of his robes dragging against the plush carpets. He carried himself with the same air of authority that he always exuded, his stern countenance swathed in the great beard that so many men in the guard envied him for. He looked like a golden lynel, strutting towards her with poise that spoke of power rather than grace. She swallowed, stuffing her research notes in the back of her belt and pulling her shirt over the top of them before he could take notice, and then she flashed him a smile that she hoped appeared doting and innocent.

His face broke into a warm grin, and he held his arms open as he approached. “Darling, you have finished with prayer.”

“For today, yes.” She stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms as far as they would go around his middle. The smell of electric saffina and cinnamon engulfed her, a mixture of the cologne he wore and the soap the staff used in the laundry. It was so uniquely him that it made her ache for a time when she was smaller, and the world had not felt so heavy on her shoulders. For a moment, as she inhaled his familiar scent, she let herself forget the tension that had been building between them of late. She forgot the strained meals, the long lectures about her lack of convictions. She forgot the pain every time she saw the horrible shadows of disappointment whirling in his gaze. She let all of that go, and wandered down the halls of memory to recall the man that would bounce her on his knee while her mother sang her lullabies, or carried her on his shoulders so that she could see the birds better. The man who had tossed her high into the air so that she could feel the wind, and had never once let her fall. When she was little, he had been Daddy, and every moment that she had spent with him had been precious.

Now, though, he was Father, a man that she couldn’t seem to make understand her no matter how she tried.

He released her, stepping back and cupping her chin between his large fingers. “You look radiant today, my love.”

She was grateful that he did not ask about her prayers, for once, and she gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you, father.”

“Listen, I wanted to speak with you about the Divine Beasts -”

“The what?” she had been halfway through readying an excuse to escape the conversation, but was distracted by his mention of beasts, which was not a topic she recalled them discussing at any point prior.

He frowned, waving his hand to dismiss her surprise. “Ah, it’s what we are calling the ancient machines, the big ones.”

“Oh. That’s…” she tilted her head to the side, lifting her hand to tap a finger against her chin. “Well, that’s rather clever, actually. They do all seem to be fashioned after fauna, and associating them with the word ‘divine’ would certainly denote the appropriate level of importance. They are intended as weapons against the darkness that all the legends speak of.”

“Zelda.”

“Do you think that was the original intention? To invoke a sense of holiness by creating them in the shape of natural creatures? I wonder if that is why their design is so differentiated from the smaller guardian machines.”

“Zelda.”

“Perhaps Impa still has the copy of that textbook depicting the different designs. We have lost many of them, I believe, or have yet to discover them, but if there is a text describing them we could discern a pattern, and there may be an explanation for the use of animal themes -”

“Zelda!”

She realized that she had been rambling, and she snapped her mouth shut with a click of her teeth. “Sorry.”

“Do not spend so much of your energy thinking on such things. You have another purpose -”

“Oh, my, I am sorry father, but I cannot remain for long,” her voice rose in pitch as she rushed the words out before he could continue, “I have, um, a very important meeting that I must attend to.”

His massive eyebrow rose towards his hairline. “You are meeting with Impa, child. Do not think that I’m not already aware of where you will be going.”

“Yes, of course.” She felt heat spread across the tops of her cheeks, and she let her gaze fall to the floor.

His sigh was strong enough to stir the hair on top of her head, but she did not risk lifting her eyes. “Very well, you may go. Please try not to tire yourself before your evening prayers.”

She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek, then bounded off to the side of him before he had enough time to change his mind. “Thank you, father! See you at dinner!”

She heard him grumbling, but she could not make out the words as she sprinted around the corner. She flew through the rest of the hallways towards the docks, ignoring the knights and withholding even a courteous nod to prevent any further delays. When she burst through the open archways above the natural cavern built below the castle, she had to skid to avoid vaulting herself over the edge of railing and into the waters sloshing in from the moat. An arm was thrown in front of her, catching her in the chest before she could topple over, and she looked to the side to see Robbie grinning at her, his white hair sticking out in fluffy tufts that conformed to no style she had ever seen. It was, perhaps, initially intended to be a bun to match the ones the rest of the Sheikah sported, but his had a wildness to it that refused to be tamed.

“Zelda, hardcore sprinting, but maybe slow it down a tick?” he winked at her, helping her right herself so that she was standing on her own two feet once more. Impa stood next to him and rolled her eyes at him, hands on her hips as she looked out over the docks.

“Sorry I’m late!” she was breathless from running, and there was a cramp in her ribs that stung every time she tried to suck in air, but she resisted the urge to double over and gasp. “I was held up for a moment, but I’m here now.” She reached behind herself and whipped the research notes out from the belt of her pants, holding them up with an air of victory. “What did you have to show me?”

“Hey, somebody want to give me a hand with these boxes?” a lyrical voice called up to them from the lower docks, and Zelda peered over the edge of the railing to see Purah tying off the ropes to a boat full of crates, her glasses speckled with droplets of the water splashing around the hull of the small vessel. Another pair of Sheikah stood in the boat, ready to assist with unloading the cargo. “Snap to it, Robbie, I’m not gonna unload all these by myself!”

Impa placed her hand on the small of Zelda’s back, guiding her forward. “You needn’t have run. We would have waited for you.”

“Don’t discourage her enthusiasm.” Robbie strolled behind them, placing his hands behind his back as he went. He was a head taller than Impa, with a lean figure that always seemed to be swaying, like a young willow in the breeze.

“I’m not discouraging anything, save perhaps vaulting into the moat headfirst.” Impa smiled and winked at her. “You’ve had enough splashing for one day, I would wager.”

“Don’t remind me.” She laughed through the words, feeling the weight of her morning fade away amongst the Sheikah researchers. It was impossible to stay glum when confronted with their antics, and even more impossible when she knew that they were presenting her with some new discovery.

She lived for these moments. The unearthing of some ancient artifact, crafted by people that lived thousands of years before herself. It was amazing to think that people had once walked Hyrule that understood the complicated machines that they were excavating in the present. No, more than that, they had _built_ them, with knowledge that was so tantalizing it made her mouth water. What she wouldn’t give to be able to dedicate her time to understanding those people from the past, to understanding their machines and the careful construction of the protection system they had tried to leave for their descendants. So much had been lost over the long centuries, but she was confident that they could restore what they had found, if only they were granted the time to do so.

By the time they had descended the steps and arrived at the boat, half the boxes had already been unloaded by the industrious Sheikah that were assisting. The nodded in greeting to her, but at a jerk of Purah’s head they dusted off their hands and headed to the other side of the docks, where chairs and a small meal had been left out for them. Robbie completely ignored the other Sheikah, as well as Purah, barreling past her to a particular box that had been laid to the side, its unmarked surface making it feel like a present. Purah cast him a glare as she struggled to carry a box to the loading area, and Zelda rushed to assist her as she saw it tipping to the side.

“Snap! Thank you, Princess.” Purah nodded in gratitude before turning to shout over her shoulder at Robbie. “At least _someone_ present has common decency.”

He waved dismissively without turning to look at them as he hefted a crowbar in his other hand, though she had no idea from whence he had produced the tool. “Bah, you were fine, I’ve seen you lift a water buffalo, a box should be small potatoes.”

They set the box down before Purah turned, tapping her foot as she glared at her preoccupied compatriot. “I _pulled_ a water buffalo, and it was only the once, and it was because _you_ got it stuck in that ravine.”

“Bah!” was his only response, followed by the cracking of wood as he shoved the crowbar between the boards of the crate. He pried off the top, sending it flipping through the air before it clattered into the ground, and Zelda jumped at the sudden burst of noise. He waved her over, oblivious to her skittishness. “Come on, Princess, this is hardcore.”

Purah pinched the bridge of her nose. “What does that even _mean,_ Robbie?”

He stopped his hasty rummaging through the box, looking up at her in surprise. “I…I mean, it’s obvious. It means, like, hard - to the core! Like metal! Like molten metal!”

“Molten metal would be soft, you idiot.” Impa shook her head, stalking past him to stand in front of the box. Zelda bit her lip to keep from laughing and edged closer to the crate herself, trying to peer inside. She couldn’t see anything past the tossed straw used to pack the contents, and she bobbed on the balls of her feet with impatience as Impa reached in to shift some of it aside. The Sheikah lifted a large quantity out and placed it carefully on the ground with a studiousness that was frustrating, but eventually enough of it had been removed and she could see what lay beneath.

Resting on a soft cloth were a set of bricks of some kind, with Sheikah runes etched into the sides. There was a large, blank space on the front of each, where no runes had been placed, which seemed an odd design choice. It was like a reverse picture, as though someone had taken all the time to make a frame only to have the middle be void of decoration.

“They found these babies at the excavation site over by the plateau.” Robbie reached in and lifted one out of the box, running a finger along the edge of it with loving care. “Simply astounding craftsmanship. To think, these lived through the great war and a thousand years of potential havoc to arrive in our hands. Hard. Core.”

“What are they?” she lifted her hand, reaching forward only to pull it back, ashamed of her boldness. Robbie helpfully offered the device out to her, and she lifted it gingerly out of his grasp, thankful that he did not begrudge her curiosity as others would.

“No idea.” he declared proudly, and Purah groaned and shook her head, though she refrained from chastising him this time.

It looked as though it was made of stone, though it was smoother, closer to polished marble. The runes decorating most of it were raised, and were cold to the touch. If she were to hazard a guess, she would say it was a kind of metal, forged into thin lines, though what kind of equipment would have been used to make such fine shapes was beyond her. She ran her palm over the surface, feeling the different materials that comprised the rectangular tablet. There was a small, circular knob on the side, and she brought it up to her face to peer at it closely.

“We believe they could serve as keys of a sort.” Purah explained. “They seem to fit in the slots on some of the structures we have found. We’ve almost finished emptying out what we _think_ is the control room for the camel machine in the wasteland, and I would hedge my bets on the fact that it would fit in the slots in that, as well.”

“Divine Beasts.” She murmured the phrase absently as she flipped the device over, giving it a more thorough examination now that she had done an initial pass.

“What?” Impa tilted her head to the side, but Zelda hardly noticed.

“It’s what my father is calling the big machines. The Divine Beasts.”

“Snap, that’s catchy.” Purah nodded, her mouth twisting to the side.

Robbie chuckled. “Hardcore.”

“That doesn’t _mean_ anything.” Purah muttered.

“Neither does ‘snap’.” 

Zelda ran her hand over the top corner of the strange tablet, and this time she felt a line that she hadn’t noticed before, the smallest indent, no more than a crack. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see it as clearly as she could in the meager lighting of the docks. Her initial assessment had been correct, it _was_ similar to a crack, only it was not jagged as would have been normal. It seemed to be intentionally placed, as meticulous in detail as the rest of the elements to the device. To what end? To indicate something? Surely it was more than just a tactile augmentation. She ran her finger over it a few times, and then pressed inward on the center of where the crack seemed to circumference. She yelped and nearly dropped it when the runes on the tablet flared to life, shining with a bright blue glow that all but blinded her because she had been holding it directly in front of her face.

Robbie snatched it out of her hands and Impa scooped her up and spun her a few feet away, hovering over her protectively. “Are you injured? Did it harm you?”

She batted her sheltering arms to the side, scowling as she blinked away the daze in her vision. “I’m _fine_ , for goodness’ sake. What is it doing now?” she pushed past Impa, trying to see what the little brick had done after Robbie had taken it, ignoring the fact that her heart was fluttering like a startled hummingbird while her hands trembled. She had never had one of the ancient artifacts activate in front of her, much less in her own two hands. She couldn’t quite tell if she was terrified or excited, and she didn’t think she much cared either way.

Robbie and Purah had both been looking at her, but when they could see that she was fine they immediately turned to examine the tablet. Robbie held it up at eye level, frowning as his gaze roved over the object. After a moment his eyebrows rose towards his hairline and his jaw fell open. “I can read this.”

“What? Give it here! What does it say?” Purah tried to grab for the brick, but Robbie pulled it away from her grasp, holding it just out of her reach.

“It’s…hm,” he frowned again, squinting and then widening his eyes as though there was some focus required to parse the words. “‘Authentication required’? What does that mean?”

“About as much as ‘hardcore’.” Purah said, leaning over to try and take the tablet again. He relented this time, letting it pass over to her, and she tried holding it in a few directions before settling on one. “Snap, that _is_ what it says. ‘Authentication required’. How do we ‘authenticate’?”

“Perhaps if you connect it to one of the slots…?” she was merely guessing, but it was the only thing she could think of that might make the little box do something differently. They had said they thought it might be a key of some sort, but perhaps it was also a source of power. If she were running the experiment herself, that is certainly the first thing she would have tried.

Robbie pointed at her, jumping up and down with unbridled excitement. “Yes! Exactly! Now that we have activated it, I am certain that we can get it to react with the slots! Zelda, that’s a brilliant hypothesis!”

“Is it ‘hardcore’?” Purah crossed her arms over her chest, using the word with sullen mockery as she handed the tablet back to Robbie, who waggled his eyebrows in response to the jab.

Impa placed her hand on Zelda’s head, straightening the strands of her hair with a soft, gentle pride. “The hardest of cores.”

Robbie nodded. “We should get them to one of the slots immediately.”

Purah let her arms drop and her head fall back, glaring at the ceiling as she let out a long groan. “We _just_ got them _here_.”

“And back in the box they go.” Impa stepped across the small distance between them and plucked it out of Robbie’s hands with a featherlight touch. She ran her fingers over it, much the same way Zelda had just done herself, frowning until she lifted her eyes and met Zelda’s gaze. “How did you…?”

“Oh, yes, let me, um...” She rushed forward, titling the tablet to the right angle so that Impa could see where she indicated, then she tapped the indented area. “Press here, where the little lines are.”

Impa did as instructed, and the tablet stopped glowing, silent and dim once more. She repeated the motion, and it flared alight again. Impa nodded with satisfaction, turning it off and gently returning it to the crate. “Well, that was…productive.”

“Sorry we dragged you away for such a short burst of fun.” Purah hopped onto a nearby crate, dangling her feet for a moment before she crossed them at the ankles. “I figured we’d at least get an hour out of trying to figure out what they did.”

Robbie strolled over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close while he snickered at Purah. “That’s what happens when you invite the _hardcore_ scientists.”

“I’m going to murder you.” Purah wrinkled her nose.

She ducked out of Robbie’s arms, giggling as Robbie bowed for Purah, which only irritated her further. She cleared her throat. “Really, no apology is necessary. I am quite happy that I was able to contribute.” She eyed the box, chewing on her lower lip for a moment. “Do you think perhaps I could keep one? You have five in there, by my count. Would it be possible to leave one with me so that I can examine it further?”

Purah raised her eyebrow. “And what if the one we leave with you is the one we need for the slot?”

“Well, I would imagine we could swap them out then. But, they obviously serve some purpose beyond the slots, so I think it has merit to explore what that purpose could be.”

Robbie chuckled. “She makes a good case.”

“I see no harm in it. Should we need to switch them, we can.” Impa leaned against a stack of crates, examining the tips of her nails. “Pick one, then.”

She hopped forward, not wasting a single moment lest they discover a reason to deny her request. She looked them over, but she couldn’t see much difference between them…save for one.

There was no visible difference to it, no characteristic that set it apart from the others. It was the same size, the same color, made of the same things. Yet, it seemed familiar to her somehow. Like a face passing through a crowd that had once been seen at a distance. She could not explain it, though she wished she were able. In any case, she knew that it was the one she should take, with more certainty than she had felt about anything in ages. She reached into the box, pulling it out with care, cradling it against her palms to ensure that it was securely placed.

“Snap! We have a winner!” Purah snapped her fingers to emphasize her point, grinning.

“I’d like to take this one, if it’s all right.” She didn’t look at the Sheikah, her eyes on the tablet, trying to imagine all the wonders it could hold.

Impa raised and eyebrow. “They all look the same to me.” She shrugged, not moving from her nonchalant posture. “Makes no difference to me, child.”

She couldn’t keep the grin off her face, hugging the tablet to her chest. She was moments away from gushing her gratitude when a bell rang at the top of the stairs, calling all of their attention towards that direction. One of the knights stood to the entrance of the docks, a steward a few steps away from him.

“Princess? Are you down here?”

She stood on her tiptoes and waved, drawing attention to herself even though she would have much rather remained out of his sight. “Down here! Do you have need of me?”

“I’ve been sent to fetch you for dinner so that you can begin dressing. Your father wishes to avoid another late start.” The steward shrugged, both apologetic at the interruption and helpless to do anything about it.

She rolled her eyes - only because she knew that she was far enough away that it could not be seen - and sighed. “I shall be up in but a moment.” She turned to the Sheikah, holding the tablet tighter. “It seems as though I am called to a higher purpose.” She tried, truly tried not to sound bitter, but the ire in her voice was unmistakable.

“Well snap, I guess it was good all that didn’t take longer then.” Purah grinned, wrinkling her nose again so that her eyes seemed to smile on their own.

“Go, child. Go enjoy your higher purpose roasted chicken.” Impa waved her hands in a shooing motion, and Zelda laughed as she turned to go.

“Do send for me if the tablet does anything hardcore!” Robbie called after her.

She waved to him, making a mental note to do just that, though she was aware that if the tablet happened to do something interesting there was no force in this world that could keep her from running to them to tell them straight away. She sighed, tucking the precious artifact and her research notes back in the belt of her pants, pulling the tunic in place so that they weren’t visible. She would have to go put on a nicer dress to eat dinner, so she could stash everything in her chambers once she arrived to change. Hopefully her father would not run into her and get curious in the meantime.

She sighed, already bored with the idea of dinner, wishing that she could beg some excuse to remain in her room and research. She knew better, however. It was unpleasant to break schedule, as her father nearly always viewed it as a breach in her discipline and would lecture her until he ran out of breath. He would wax poetic about a million responsibilities that she already knew so well that they kept her awake at night, and end with enough recrimination that she would be drowning in guilt for a week. It did not matter how many times they had the argument, or how many times she tried to explain herself, it always ended the same. He never saw that she was trying, only that she was failing.

One of these days she would discover a way to make him understand, but today was not that day.

 


	3. Good Lad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a horse mystery.

Sammy had a gap in her teeth where one had recently fallen out, so she whistled through her laughter as she ducked behind the tree. Link grinned, making a show of looking in the wrong direction, hearing her airy giggles even though she was trying to be quiet. She was five, so she had not yet mastered the art of stealth. He walked over to a bush, pulling apart the branches noisily and making a face of confusion when it was clear that she was not hiding there, and he was gratified to hear her burst into another fit of snickering behind the trunk of the oak. There was a vague scraping noise, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she vaulted herself up the tree, her tiny feet finding hold in the wrinkled bark with ease. She made it to the top, planting herself on a large branch with a leg dangling on either side, startling a group of sparrows that had been perched on the other end. Link stared as they sailed away, dipping and gliding through a sky tinged with the first hints of orange that heralded the sunset.

Sammy gasped, drawing his attention again, and he turned to see her pointing out to the road, her eyes wide. “Link, your papa has _two_ horses!” she said this as though she had never imagined there could be such a thing, as though two horses were entirely too many horses for her to comprehend. She bounced on the branch, her braids swinging as leaves cascaded down to lodge in his hair. _“Two_ horses!”

Link felt his chest fill with joy, though it wasn’t because of the horses. In spite of the fact that he resented the training, he had missed his father dearly while he had been gone, and knowing that he was close enough to home that he could be seen on the road made his heart swell. He took a running start and leaped up the side of the tree, grabbing one of the lower branches to leverage himself higher until he could sit on the trunk, next to Sammy. From his new vantage, he could see the rolling hills below the village and the winding road that passed through them. He looked in the direction that his young playmate had pointed, and sure enough he saw his father, riding their old and steady horse, Sir Cloppers, and leading another one behind him.

But why the second horse? Old Cloppers wasn’t anywhere near to giving out on them, and they didn’t really have room for another horse on their small plot in the back of the village. Link chewed his lower lip as he considered what the horse portended and watched it draw nearer. It was the color of amber distilled in moonlight, with a jet-black mane that shone in the dying rays of the sun. He wasn’t an expert, but he fancied that he was knowledgeable enough to be able to tell that she was a mare even from this distance. Link had a fondness for horses ever since he had been old enough to start tending to Cloppers, and he took pride in his ability to get the beasts to obey. He had been the only one able to calm Della’s carthorse when it had been spooked by thunder, and when the Sheikah that were building the research lab on the hill had a steed fall ill, it was Link that had figured out he had been eating some of the materials being stored near his stable.

Perhaps that was why his father had the mare. Maybe he had realized how abysmal Link was at his knighthood training, and had brought him a horse to test out another occupation. Maybe he could be a horse breeder, or trainer, or something. He could have a farm down the hill on the outskirts of town, and hold races to keep things exciting. He looked at Sammy, still bouncing on the branch as they watched his father come up the next rise, and he thought about the look she might have on her face if she got to see a horse race. It made him smile just to imagine it. That could be a good life for him.

Full to the brim with anticipation, he waited with Sammy until his father had reached the gates before he slid out of the tree. He took a moment to help her down before Della started calling her home to dinner, then he sprinted to the front of the town, her half-whistled farewells chasing his heels.

“Ho!” his father saw him coming, and raised an arm in greeting. He wasn’t wearing his armor or helm, so Link saw his face crinkle into a warm smile with perfect clarity.

He skidded to a halt next to Cloppers as his father pulled the reins, vaulting off the horse and landing with a grunt. Link batted away the dust churned up by his feet, coughing as he breathed in a heavy lungful. When his breath had calmed, he drew in a gulp of air, planting his hands on his hips as he peered at his father. “Welcome home.”

His father raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. “I’d swear you’ve grown while I was gone. Leave a week and you sprout and inch.” He shook his head, the breeze tossing the tufts of his silver-streaked auburn hair across his face. Without warning he stepped forward, engulfing Link in a hug that drove the breath from his chest for the second time.

He returned the gesture, his eyes watering as he was crushed. When his father didn’t let go, he began to worry that he would be ground to pulp in the fervor of his greeting. “Um, father. A little less…” he felt his father’s grip tighten. “ _Dad!_ _”_

Link was released, his father chuckling and looking to the horizon. “Oh, that takes me back. You haven’t called me ‘dad’ in years.” He cleared his throat, turning to look him in the eyes again. “Everything alright while I was gone?”

“Yep.” He grinned, putting his hands on his hips once more. “I took care of all the chores on your list, and I went fishing with Mipha and caught a bunch of staminoka for Della and the shopkeep in Zora’s Domain. We got to keep a few of them, and I saved them in the ice chest for you.”

“Good lad.” His father reached out and ruffled his hair, dislodging several leaves that had still been stuck there.

Link rolled his eyes, batting away the affectionate hand. “So…horse?” he nodded his head towards the mare - it was definitely a mare, now that he had seen her up close - and waited with bated breath to hear why his father had brought her.

“She’s for you. Link, this here is Epona. Epona, this is the impertinent little scamp I warned you about.” The horse snuffled, bowing her head and flicking her tail from side to side.

Link raised an eyebrow at his father. “Isn’t ‘Epona’ just Sheikah for ‘horse’?”

“Are you mocking my horse naming skills? You know, I could take her back.” He started to turn, heading back towards the gate, and Link threw out his hand to stop him.

“No! Epona’s a great name!”

His father snorted. “Thought as much. It’s a good sounding word, and it’s appropriate that you call a horse a horse. Come on, let’s get her home. I have a mighty need to get something in my stomach before I decide to eat her.”

He started marching off towards their home, and Link had to skip to catch back up with him. “But wait, you didn’t tell me why you got me a horse.”

“Dinner first.” His father grunted, and Link frowned at the lack of answer in his response.

His father shoved Epona’s lead into his hands, giving Link control of her, and they walked the rest of the way to the house in companionable silence. The sun dipped below the horizon and the fireflies started appearing beneath the boughs of the tall trees at the border of the town. The crickets started to sing, and Link languished in the peace it brought him to hear the subdued sounds of the night begin blanket the little village. Sammy had already gone inside, and Link could hear her mother scolding her for something through the open window next to their kitchen.

When they reached the small path in front of their home, his father raised his arms above his head, stretching so far that his back popped audibly against the backdrop of crickets. He looked up at the homestead, and spoke without looking back at Link. “Fish in the ice chest, you said?”

“Yep.”

“Alright. Why don’t you go get the horses settled, and I’ll start making us something to eat?” his voice echoed strangely as it bounced around the twilight-bound air, and it made Link hesitate.

“You’ve been on the road, you should let me cook.”

“Bah! I’d rather cook than deal with horses for another minute, and I’m too impatient to wait for you to get back.” He turned to look at him finally, smiling with a twinkle in his eyes. “Go on, put your horse to bed before she gets a notion to wander off.” The mare whinnied next to him, and he knew that it was a losing argument to try and protest. He nodded, taking the reins of both the horses and heading around to the side of the house, where they had a small stable that would have to serve for them both for the time being.

As he tied them to the knots of wood built into the structure, he felt some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. This, at least, was not unusual. He was well acquainted with Sir Cloppers and the routine involved in settling him for the night. He pulled off the old grey’s saddle, putting it in the chest reserved for such a purpose. Epona wasn’t wearing one, since she hadn’t been ridden, nothing more than the lead tied around her neck., so he had nothing to remove on her part. Cloppers flicked his ears back and forth with impatience as Link walked around to the back of the stable, grabbing the bin with the brushes. He set to his task on Cloppers first, making short work of brushing him down and wiping him clean from the sweat of a day’s ride. When he was done, the old beast turned away from him, taking the few steps to the trough of hay to which he promptly dedicated all his attention.

Link turned, facing the horse that was _his._ She was a grand thing, tall and sleek, with powerful muscles that rippled with every move she made. Her eyes held a fire as she looked at him, and he could tell she had a spirit to her that might have made her difficult to train. His fingers twitched around the handle of the brush as he stepped closer. He took his time, measuring his steps to make sure she didn’t fright, but she didn’t shy away from him. When he was within reach he lifted his hand, placing it against the base of her jaw and stroking down along her neck. She dipped her head an inch or two, snuffling towards him, and he found himself charmed in an instant.

“Good girl.” He patted her neck, then lifted the brush and set to work grooming her. He spent more time at this task, examining every feature, checking for any faults or ticks that he should be worried about. She was strong, stronger than any horse he had ever encountered. She must have been bred for something far more strenuous than farm work, which meant she had probably cost a fortune. There were no physical flaws that he could detect, but she did have a ticklish spot on her left flank that he would need to be mindful of whenever he dressed her for riding.

When she had been brushed so much that her coat was gleaming, he finally had to admit the task was done. He put the things away with some reluctance, wishing that he could spend more time with her immediately. Perhaps he could talk his father into going for a ride first thing in the morning, so that he could get use to her. His father usually spent a few days grumbling about horses after he came back from a long trip, but Link had hopes that this was a special occasion and would warrant a delay in his temporary horse embargo.

He used the water pump to clean himself off before drying his hands on the edges of his tunic and strolling back to the front door. When he entered, the room was already filled with the scents and sounds of dinner that Link had lived with his entire life. The pan sizzled with the heat of the fire beneath it, butter lining the metal and melting to mix with the salt and herbs that had been dashed on top. He could smell the aroma of boiling vegetables and the pungent but not unpleasant undertones of the fish as his father cleaned it of scales and bone. He hummed while he worked, the same ambling tune that always thrummed in his chest while he cooked. He never hummed when he did anything else, but something about donning the shoddy apron and preparing a meal put a melody in his throat. Link had asked him about it once, when he was littler and still so full of questions he couldn’t contain them, and his father had told him that his mother believed that food wouldn’t taste good unless you added a dash of song.

His father turned as Link shut the door. “Ah, you’re back! How’d she do?”

“She’s incredible. Where did you get her, anyways?” he tugged his boots off and left them by the entrance, wandering towards the kitchen to hop up and sit on a clear space of the counter.

His father scowled, shaking a spoon in his direction. “Get off the counter, boy, you’re not some kind of bokogoblin.” Link rolled his eyes but complied, setting his feet back on the floor and leaning against the counter top instead as his father resumed the conversation. “I know a guy that deals in the best horses in Hyrule, so he cut me a good deal.”

“Why though? Did we need two?” he pilfered a carrot from the cutting board, earning him another scowl as he popped it in his mouth to chew, though Link knew it was good natured.

“I told you, after dinner. Here, stop being such a nuisance and make yourself useful.” His father slid the cutting board towards him, handing him the knife and nodding towards his new task. He set to work without complaint, happy to be with his father again, even if it meant a return to the same normalcy he had chafed at days earlier. It was lonely in this house by himself, and even when he had been making noise it had still seemed too quiet. With his father home, it was like color and sound had returned, and all the eeriness of an empty room had been set to rights by his presence.

They finished cooking together, his father humming and Link absorbing the domesticity with quiet gratitude. When it was done, his father hung the apron back on its hook and helped to set the table, and they wasted no time settling in to eat. Link had worked up an astounding appetite playing hide and seek with Sammy for half the day, and because of that every bite tasted like heaven. There wasn’t much conversation to be shared around the table, but that was the natural way of things. The pair of them were usually too focused on inhaling what was in front of them to do much in the way of chatter. Link ate until he felt like he would burst, finally pushing his plate away and sighing with content, a satisfied pat to his stomach the punctuation to a delicious meal. Now that he had eaten, it was easier to be patient for the answer to the new horse mystery, and he sat in silence while his father finished his food.

He knew the time had come for answers when his father set his utensils on the plate, letting the ringing of the metal against the kilned clay fade before he spoke. “So, the horse.”

“Epona.” He corrected him automatically, and he realized as he did so that he liked the name. Even if it was basically calling her Horse the horse, it seemed to suit her.

His father rolled his eyes. “Oh, so _now_ she’s Epona?”

_“Dad_.” He had used the term to make him smile even as he admonished him, but instead his father winced, which was unexpected. The lazy comfort of his full belly dwindled away as an ominous sense of dread spread through him. His father, for reasons that as of yet eluded Link, looked guilty.

“I got her as a gift…but more than that I wanted you to have a reliable mount to take to the castle.”

“The…castle?” he tilted his head to the side, trying to puzzle out why he would be riding such a long way after his father had just come from that direction. The fear working its way up his spine had not yet abated, and he had a terrible feeling that he would have rather not heard the explanation that would come.

“You’ve been offered a position to train with the Royal Knights. You’re to leave first thing in the morning and report for training as soon as you arrive.”

It felt as though, in the blink of an eye, he had become very small and very cold, an insignificant speck of dust being buffeted by a snow storm. A burning sensation crept behind his eyes as he tried to wrap his mind around the enormity of what his father had just said. “What?” he croaked out the word through a throat that felt like it had snapped shut. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. Leaving? He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to live at the castle. He wanted to stay in Hateno, with his father, and the other villagers that added color to his life. He wanted to see Mipha again when she next stopped by, to go swimming and catch dragonflies that she used to make potions. His whole life was in Hateno, in their home, not in the middle of Hyrule beyond the swells of the moat.

“It is a great honor to be offered such a position, and I’m proud -”

“But I don’t want to be a knight.” The words tumbled off his tongue before he could stop them, his shock making him more honest than he had ever intended to be. His father stopped speaking, his mouth drawing closed and wilting into a frown…and then it was so much worse than Link had imagined this conversation could have gone whenever he had pictured it before. His father was not angry, nor was he disappointed, as Link had often expected. The sentiment that swam in his eyes was crushing heartache, a sorrow flashing through him that Link had never seen in him before and wished that he would never need to see again. Something in his father was broken, sharp edges digging into his heart and making him bleed, but Link had never known it to have been there, never known him to be capable of it. Had he done this? Were his words so painful to hear that he had destroyed something kind and warm within his parent to place that despair in his gaze? “I’m sorry, I just, I don’t think I’m cut out for it.” He let his eyes drop to stare at the table, avoiding the sight of how he was wounding the person he cared for most in this world.

“I disagree.” The sardonic tone to the words surprised him, and he snapped his head upward to see that the sorrow had been replaced with a mask that was not at all sincere. His father smiled, and it rang as hollow as a broken bell. “I think you’ll do fine.”

He swallowed, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to say another word, but he had already put it out there, and just as he always knew would be true, now he couldn’t take it back. “But I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to go to central Hyrule, and I don’t want to be a knight.”

“I think that -”

“No, I mean, I can do something else. I can be…uh…” he panicked, realizing that he didn’t have a valid option to present as a substitute. The only thing that he had ever thought about was _not_ being a knight, and everything beyond that was vague fantasy. He looked around the room, hoping for inspiration to come leaping out at him, and he spotted the dinner plates still resting on the table. “A kiln operator…person. I could make…plates.”

His father pursed his lips, trying to hold a frown, and Link knew he had said the wrong thing a moment later when the laughter started bubbling from his parent. “A kiln operator?” He stroked his beard, adjusting in his seat as the mirth melted into sincerity again, which was better than the forced smiles from a moment ago. “That would be a nice, quiet life, but it is not the one you have been given.”

“What do you mean?”

His father sighed, looking older with every second that passed. “I understand how you feel, but I’m going to ask you to give it a try anyways. It would be a terrible thing to refuse the offer without knowing for sure that it wasn’t what you wanted. One month is all I ask. If you aren’t keen on this role by that time, you can return home and pursue…plates.” His smile was rueful, and Link knew his rash declaration had been revealed for the lunacy it was. He swallowed, trying to think of something to say, of anything to say that might change the tide of this conversation.

He wanted to say no, because he knew without a doubt that there was no amount of time that would make him more comfortable with the idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The plea in his father’s gaze smothered the last of the fight that he held, and he sagged against the back of his chair as he relented. “Okay. One month.”

“Good lad.” His father smiled, but it did not erase the sorrow that was still lurking around the room.

They sat in brooding discomfort for a few heartbeats, neither of them knowing where to take the conversation from that point. Link felt as though they had both lost somehow, as though each was so unhappy that it didn’t matter who had gotten their way. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he had gotten the worse end of the deal.

The burning was back behind his eyes, and he blinked it away as best he could. _Leaving_. He was leaving his home to do the last thing in the world that he wanted to do. He was leaving behind his friends, his life. Worst of all, he was leaving his father, and that pain was made all the sharper by the fact that it was him that was driving him away. Was this what his failure at being trained had earned him? Was he such a disappointment that his father felt the need to send him off?

He stood, the scrape of his chair on the floor sounding too loud in the muted room. “I should…pack, I guess.” He didn’t meet his father’s eyes as he spoke, staring at the ground while the burning in his eyes felt like it was becoming a blaze. The shapes and colors in front of him started to blur, filtered through a haze of glittering pain. He was going to cry, and tonight he didn’t feel like letting his father see it.

“Link, I -”

“Goodnight.” It was rude, and abrupt, but it cut off that broken tone in his father’s voice that would have killed him if he had to hear it for another second. He spun on his heel and marched up the stairs to his room, sitting on his bed and hanging his head into his hands. There, in the solitude of his misery, he wept, and let the anguish of his regret flow out of him. If he had tried harder to learn his father’s lessons, maybe he wouldn’t be in this position. If he had been stronger, or faster, or more attentive, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If he had been smarter he could have come up with something better to do before now, and if he were braver he could have told his father the truth sooner. If only he were anyone better than himself.

When he felt like an empty husk that had been drained of everything, he was better able to think about the situation calmly. He packed his things, reminding himself all the while that it was just for a month. He could go and remain the mediocre fighter that he had always been, and by then both his father and the Royal Knights would agree that knighthood was not the right path for him. He readied his things and prepared to leave, and stopped viewing it as an unalterable change that would ruin his life. He instead began thinking of it as more of a vacation. A month in the castle, a month seeing the sights of the kingdom, and then he would get his life back. That was his prayer as his pillow carried him off to sleep.

Just a month, and nothing more.


	4. I Won't Let You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda is given a task and Link lets Epona carry him away.

She fiddled with the clasp on the necklace as she tried to latch it around the back of her neck, puffing up her cheeks in irritation when it seemed that the pieces didn’t even match anymore. While it was not the first time that she had dressed herself for prayer, she couldn’t say that she was used to it by any means, and the golden jewelry piece always proved the most vexing part. Whoever designed jewelry was very inconsiderate of those wishing to be independent and _alone._ Still, she was not about to call for help, for she had sent her handmaid away for the morning for a reason.

The tablet lay on the bed in front of her, the heavy slate making a divot in the blankets that it rested upon. It was glowing, emitting a serene blue light up at her as she finally found the right angle and closed the loop of gold around her neck. She gasped audibly in relief, and her hands were around the tablet again before the chains had even settled over her collarbone. She lifted it, resuming her examination as though she hadn’t stopped to don the ivory robe and accessories, as though she wasn’t running late for the appointed morning in prayer. She was trying to trace the lines of spun metal, to see if they connected in any meaningful way, and she knew that if she did not complete the task before she left it would occupy her thoughts the entire time she knelt in the water. 

She had been spending every spare moment that she had with it, but had yet to get it to do anything other than power on. This one, it seemed, did not even assert the same command for ‘authentication’ as the others had, since the rectangular surface where it had been displayed on the other one remained stubbornly blank for hers. She had run several tests, including trying various voice commands and touch motions across the front pane, but all to no avail. She managed to discover that the end of it extended out to form a handle of sorts, and she had also discovered that it seemed to remain the same temperature regardless of environment or handling. She had taken copious notes about the shape, the size, the weight, and her best estimations of the materials that might have been used to make it, though they were no more than guesses at this juncture.

That was what the sum of her time with it had earned her, and she found that fact more disappointing with each minute that ticked away. She knew that there had been little chance that her tablet would have produced something of note without trying it in the slots in the ancient structures, but she had hoped regardless. She had thought that perhaps if she had been able to find out something useful she then would have more justification for her studies, and could use that as more leverage to talk her father into allowing her more time with the Sheikah. Or, barring that fanciful notion, she could at least feel useful.

She sighed, holding the tablet to her chest so that it felt like she was embracing becalmed flame. She peered through the light, staring at the walls of her room and the lavish decorations, feeling out of place and alone. Were her efforts with the ancient technology going to prove as worthless as her efforts with prayer? Perhaps that was her destiny. Perhaps disappointment was the only addendum she could tack to her name.

The knock on the door startled her so that a squeak of surprise slipped past her lips, and she jumped in the air, nearly dropping the tablet in her clamor. She caught it, clutching it tightly as the knocking started for a second round.

“Zelda? Are you there?” her father’s voice filtered through the polished wood, and she felt a yellow tinge of panic flash through her mind. The knob started to turn, and she tried to tilt the tablet to find the activation button again, but she couldn’t get her orientation. As the door started to swing open, the brighter light from the hallway spilling in through the crack, she did the only thing that she could think of, and shoved the slate underneath her pillow. She did her best to look as though she had been busy getting ready, though she felt her cheeks burning from the deception.

“There you are. I had been by the spring, but you were not there. I was concerned you had forgotten.”

She had to freeze every muscle in her face to keep from rolling her eyes. “Of course not, just a touch behind schedule. I had some difficulty getting the necklace latched.” _As though I could forget the only thing I am allowed to do with any regularity. As though I could forget that prayer serves as the bars to my gilded cage._

He shook his head, a rueful smile on his face as he stepped towards her, raising his massive hands to place them on her shoulders. “You have people who will assist you with such things so that you can attune your focus where it is needed.” He adjusted the necklace, setting it straighter across her throat. “You _must_ learn your place and accept your role, and in so doing accept the roles that others must play, as well.”

“Sorry, father.”

He sighed, and she saw him trying to drag more patience out from the depths where he kept it locked away. It was not often wasted on her. “No matter, perhaps in this single instance it is fortuitous. I wanted to speak with you regarding the Divine Beasts.”

“Really?” her eyebrows rose on her forehead before she remembered herself, scaling back her surprise. “I mean, of course. Please, speak as you will.”

He walked back and forth in front of her, clasping his hands behind his back as though he was gearing up for a lecture. It was difficult to keep her face polite and still, rather than wilting under his laborious regard. She feared the worst for the direction that this conversation could take, and she imagined any number of banishments and restrictions that would keep her from assisting the Sheikah team. She was already preparing arguments against such measures when he finally spoke, and it drove everything out of her head but astonishment.

“I am assigning you the task of finding champions to pilot the Beasts.”

She sat on her bed, shock driving her downward as her knees refused to accept that such a thing had truly just been said. “I…pardon?” she had misheard. She had misunderstood. Perhaps he had meant through prayer, that he would ask her to spend additional time in the spring to assist in the search.

“From my understanding of what Impa has been telling me, the great machines function as vessels, and they will require people to operate them. The Sheikah believe that those chosen will need to be particularly singular individuals, possessing both keen wit and physical strength in order to bend the machines to their will. I would like to entrust you with finding these individuals, those who would champion the Divine Beasts and serve as our honor guard against the possible darkness. You will need to travel, I expect -”

“Yes! Oh, Daddy, I would love to!” in her exuberance she slipped, using the old name with a familiarity that rolled easily enough against her tongue. She had not called him that since shortly after her mother died, when it had stopped feeling appropriate. They had both lost so much laughter then, so much love and light being drained from their lives without the Queen to provide it. Formality was what they had added to fill the void. 

He smiled, but she could see doubt behind it, and so any warming effect was lost. “You are still to continue your prayers. I will accept no shirking of this matter. It is still of the utmost importance that you awaken your abilities by showing your dedication to the goddess.”

“Yes, of course, I would not think of any dereliction.”

“Aside from that, however, you may pursue this task as you wish.”

So, then it was a test. The unspoken meaning behind the offer did not elude her, for it was there between the lines plainly enough. Should she do well with this, perhaps she would be allowed to do more. Perhaps this could prove to him that even without her power awakened, she would be able to contribute.

“I won’t let you down.”

He nodded, turning and heading back towards the door. “I will take my leave, then. I wish you well in your prayers.”

“Thank you. Good day.” She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, as he had already left, the door swinging closed behind him. His abrupt exit told her just how unsure he was of this decision, and she would have been lying if she had pretended it didn’t sting.

She steeled herself from the pain, tucking it away so that it could not distract her. She felt honored to be the one chosen for this task, honored that her father would consider her and go so far as to allow it to happen, and she did not want to let him down by pouting about a lackluster farewell. She left the tablet where it lay beneath her pillow, refocusing her mind and clearing it of distractions. She would prove to her father that he had made the right decision. She would prove that she could find the champions for the Divine Beasts and remain pious in her prayer.

This day she did not allow her mind to wander, and as she knelt in the pool for the next few hours, she tried her best to _mean_ the words of her prayers. Let the spring in the castle echo with her dedication, and let her leave knowing that she had left no ounce of devotion aside. She would ignore her doubts, and the pain in her knees. She would ignore her frustrations and cast aside her hesitation. She would pray, and she would plan, and then perhaps the horrible shame at her failings would finally drain away. She hoped that to be the case, at any rate. She hoped for this to be the start of a better chapter in her life, the start of what would help her awaken into the princess the kingdom needed. She hoped that she could present to them a person worth believing in.

She hoped that this would be her chance to be the daughter her father wished her to be.

***

Epona was a good horse, and for that Link was grateful. She was steady, and knew how to follow the road without being guided every step of the way. This was fortuitous for him, as he had not been able to pull his attention away from the morose mood that it had fallen into since his departure.

It was a beautiful day, the sun gleaming in the sky, birds trailing through the wispy clouds that drifted towards the horizon. It was not too warm, nor was it too cold. The wind brushed the grass on the hills, making it sway and rustle, whispering of the serenity of the great wilds across Hyrule. On another day, at another time, he would have been in awe of such scenery. He would have rejoiced at the change and embraced the adventure. As it stood, all he could bring himself to do was stare at his hands where they gripped the reins, brooding over his predicament.

_“Do you have everything?” his father smiled, looking over the small pack that he had strapped to Epona. The leather bindings were old and cracked, borrowed from the other saddle, though his dad had bartered for a new seat from some of Della’s supplies._

_Link refused to meet his gaze, focusing on the horse instead._ _“Yeah, I think.” He counted the tacks in the seating, because that was easier than any of the other things that he would have to do in the next moments._

_“Listen, I just wanted to say -”_

_“It’s okay, I should get going.” He didn’t have to look at his father to see how that had hurt him. He steeled his nerves, turning to look at him, willing the tears to stay on the other side of his eyes, where they couldn’t be seen. “I’ll see you again soon.”_

_His father pursed his lips and nodded, and Link mounted Epona, settling into the saddle and gazing towards the road. Dawn seemed colder now that it heralded only reluctance and dread._

His father had remained in the road to watch him go, and Link knew that because he had been able to see him standing there until he turned the bend and the sight of the village and his life were gone. He still glanced backwards every now and then, even though he knew that he was too far away to see it. Part of him hoped that he might have wandered into some magic portal, that his forward momentum would have carried him back to where he started. He imagined letting Epona keep going, letting her wind through all the roads and over all the mountains, passing around the curve of the horizon until they had come full circle. He thought of turning and riding north, towards the Zora Domain, to ask Mipha if she would hide him away for a month so that he would not have to train as a knight.

He thought of the last thing that his father had said, and this he thought of most of all.

_“Link.” His father reached a hand up, placing it over his own to keep him from urging Epona forward. “No matter what happens, you will always be my son.”_

He hadn’t said anything back, he had only nodded. He had puzzled over it a great deal, but he couldn’t understand what his father had meant. He couldn’t understand if it was intended to be a vote of confidence or encouragement, or if his father was trying to comfort him if he should fail. Regardless of his understanding of them, the words had stuck in his mind, with all the spiny annoyance of a thorn tucked deep in his finger.

He hunched his shoulders, wishing that he could cover his ears and stop hearing the subtle shake to his father’s tone, to close his eyes and stop seeing the water brimming at the edges of his gaze. He wished that he could turn back, to find the words to explain himself well enough that his father would understand.

He wished that he had never stopped calling him Dad.

He shook his head, nudging his knee into Epona’s side to ask her to move quicker. He still had a way to go before he would reach his first stop, but he was already tired of riding. It was too isolated, too quiet. It left too much empty space for his thoughts to fill, at a time when he wished he didn’t have to think at all. He lifted his gaze, looking at the horizon and the copses of trees dotting the mountainsides.

Just a month. He reminded himself of the temporary nature of the arrangement for what must have been the fiftieth time that morning. It rang more hollow each time that he said it, and the words felt like they were beginning to lose their meaning altogether. Still, it was the one lifeline that he had, the one thing he could look forward to.

He spurred Epona forward again, urging her into a gallop. The wind slapped against his face as she carried him faster, the landscape around them turning into a green-grey blur. He closed his eyes, trusting his horse for the moment, and let everything fall away. He let the air around him steal his breath, he let the sun warm his bones. He tried to forgive his father, to let the world have his resentment too, but he was not yet ready to let that go. He pushed it deeper, further into himself where he could not feel it so sharply. He opened his eyes, and the world was still speeding by. Epona seemed more alive, thrilled at her own power, and he had to admit it thrilled him as well. He leaned into the saddle, letting her control their pace, letting her run to her heart’s content.

Within moments he was smiling, a breathless laughter spilling from his chest to be whipped away by their speed. He didn’t know what awaited him at the castle, and he didn’t know how arduous things would be before he could return, but for the moment he stopped thinking about it. For the moment, he let himself be free of those worries and allowed his heart to soar. For the moment, he let Epona run from his pain, carrying him far away from it.

Perhaps she was fast enough to outrun it for good.


	5. Only a Month

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mipha gets a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was a day late. ^_^ However the next chapter, in all likelihood, will probably be up later tonight, because it's the one I've been WAITING to write because it's where things really start to get rolling. :)
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments, holy cow you guys are awesome. <3 I deeply appreciate it.

She liked the little path that wound its way up the mountain to the village. Normally anything out of the water just seemed laborious to get through, but the trail between Lake Jarrah and the town had become familiar enough to be pleasant. She liked the solitude that it afforded her, away from the eyes of others. She was less nervous when she was alone, though she had gotten very good at masking those nerves even when others would scrutinize her. She could now hide her anxiety from nearly anyone - save for him.

Mipha hummed to herself as she skipped over a rock, the jewelry she wore jangling against her ears. It had been almost a week since she had last stopped by, and she still found herself smiling when she recalled her previous visit. It had become rare that they could spend very much time together, since she had started performing more duties at her father’s behest and Link had taken up training with his own. It kept them apart and equally busy, so she cherished the moments where they could relive their childhood all the more.

When she had been much smaller she had gotten trapped in one of the underground rivers that drained the waters from the dam, too young and weak to fight the strong currents as they had carried her beneath the Lanayru mountains. She had been cold, and frightened, and when she had washed ashore at the edge of an unfamiliar river, she had been convinced that it would become the site of her grave. She had started to cry, not knowing what else to do, her tears tasting of salt and defeat. Then a boy, with eyes bluer than any sea, had wandered out of the brush, his small hands open as he chased after a firefly that flickered across the sky. He had stopped his pursuit when he found her, and sat with her until she was calm enough to speak. He had been patient, and kind, and had offered her some crackers that he had been keeping in his pocket. She had been grateful, even though she thought they had tasted like sand and coughed them up the moment they hit her tongue. When she had explained her predicament, he had dragged her home to his father, who had been able to help her return to Zora’s domain and her family.

That was the first time she had met Link, and she had never been able to forget him since. He was a foolhardy, exuberant child, and in the time that she had spent at his house before she had been taken home, she had become quite fond of him. She would visit often after that, once she had learned to traverse the lakes and rivers safely, and they had spent their childhood getting into more mischief than she had thought herself capable. Once they had even floated above the river using the balloons from an octorok, which had resulted in a broken wrist on Link’s left arm that they had both agreed to never mention to their fathers. He had perpetually dragged her on some adventure or another, and if he got hurt - as he almost always did - she would use her powers to heal him.

She missed those days, as turbulent as they were. They had been filled with laughter, and a lightness that had allowed her to have a childhood more carefree than she might have otherwise. Her father encouraged her whims, but the eyes of those around her made her feel as though she should be small and quiet. With Link, it had always been different, because he could see through all the veils that she used to hide. When she tried to be small, he would remind her of how grand she could be. When she tried to be silent, he would pry a song from her heart. He could see her nerves before her hands shook, and would soothe them with a smile. He could ease her doubts with a pat on the shoulder, and he always knew when to push her out of her comfort zone or bring her back into safer routine. He was the only person in all the world capable of such things, and for that reason she cherished him.

If only she had the courage to tell him such.

She rounded the last bend in the path, stepping around the gnarled tree whose roots were shaped like bowls. She could see the little village spread out before her, smoke rising in lazy spirals from the chimneys, faint clanging from the construction of the lab on the large hill. She could just make out the silhouettes of the Sheikah doing the building, their thin frames like blades of grass moving to and fro. She took a deep breath, enjoying the gentle nature of the air for a moment, giving herself time for the butterflies in her stomach to settle. She exhaled again as she made her way into the village, up the center road to Link’s house. It was tucked at the edge of town, somewhat removed from the rest of the community, across a bridge that spanned a small creek. She had always imagined it was the quintessential Hylian home, a perfect representation of a peaceful dream. She did love the luminous spires of her own home, but she liked the rustic quality to Link’s. She had often thought she might be comfortable living in a place much the same, under the right circumstances.

 Vallus was sitting in the grass next to the small tree he had planted the previous year, his gaze on the sky as a cloud drifted across the sun. She could smell traces of moisture in the air, and knew that it would rain sometime later in the afternoon. For now, however, it was sunny and sublime, and Vallus seemed to be taking full advantage of that fact.

She froze mid step, her foot hanging in the air for a moment as it occurred to her how strange the sight before her was. It would not have been odd were it two years ago, before Link had been spurred into his training regimen. Vallus used to while away the day in all manner of relaxed, easygoing ways. Since he had been teaching Link the methods of the blade, however, she had not found either of them lounging when she arrived. They were usually to be found behind the house, swaying wooden poles and heaving to catch their breath. She would perch upon the rim of the fence and observe, and eventually Vallus would take pity on her presence and allow Link to take a break so that they could do something. Link was usually too exhausted for any of their old antics, but she never minded the slow pace of just sitting with him and sharing a small meal. They would talk of things they dreamed of doing one day, or talk of things that had happened to them in the days that they had not seen each other. Her only complaint was that the time always felt too short, the end coming too soon when Vallus would call him back to work. 

It should have been a welcome change, to see Vallus so returned to his old self. It should have given her hope that Link would be free for the day so that they could do something together. Instead it put a feeling in her limbs that was like a thousand spiders had been set loose in her veins, wriggling beneath the surface to speak of ill omens.

Vallus turned his head and spotted her then, and as he raised a hand in greeting she realized that she needed to start walking again or risk looking like a fool. She stumbled forward, her foot catching on the ground as she resumed her motion. She felt dazed, like she was walking through a dream, though she had no reason to feel as such.

It grew stronger when she saw his eyes.

When she drew close enough to see his face, he gave her a rueful smile, but she could barely see it beyond the expression in his gaze. She had known Vallus for many years, and he had always been full of light and laughter. This was the man that had helped them build castles in the mud taller than they were. This was the man that had taught them how to sing to the frogs to make them hop from the water. This was the man that had always been smiling, with a twinkle in his eyes that had always made her feel at ease.

She felt as though she didn’t know the man before her. He looked older than she remembered, his face drawn and fallow. In his stare she found no light, but shadows, lurking so far and so deep as to make the great seas seem mere ponds. She wanted to recoil from it, to flee and race back up the path to start her journey over. Surely she had taken a wrong turn, she had stumbled into some shadow world that was a pale ghost of what she had known.

“Mipha, I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s Dorephan?” his voice sounded tired, but it still retained some of its warmth, which calmed her enough to gather her wits to speak.

“Good! He has been busy of late, but that has not dulled his enthusiasm.” She smiled, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from fidgeting.

Vallus snorted. “Sounds like him. And you? Have you been well?”

“Yes, quite.” She nodded, hearing the jewelry adorning her head clatter together. She bit the inside of her cheek, mulling over the merits of saying what she wanted to say. “Are you…have you been well?” she really wanted to ask what was ailing him, what made his eyes grow dim and dark as a starless night, but propriety kept her in check. Propriety, and the gnawing fear of what the answer could be.

“Yes, thank you.” His answer was not in the words he spoke, as they were meaningless. The true answer was in the heartache written across his soul, in the emptiness that filled his smile. Vallus was not well. He was the least well that she had ever seen him, and it terrified her.

“Is Link…?” she looked towards the house, clasping her hands together tighter as she let the question hang. _Is he alright? Is he here? Has something happened?_

Vallus looked up at the sky again, squinting at an eagle as it soared in lazy circles above them. “He’s not here. I imagine he should be arriving at the castle any time now.”

“The castle?” her blood had turned to ice in the single span of a heartbeat.

Vallus nodded, and then without warning he stood, grunting with the effort that it took to lift himself out of the grass. “Hold here a moment, Mipha. I have something for you.” He lumbered into the house, and she watched him disappear around the edge of the door. He was gone for a only a few moments before he emerged from the entryway, something clutched in his hands that he handled with the delicacy one would a budding flower. He closed the distance between them and held it out to her, a plain envelope with her name scrawled across the front of it. “He left this for you. I except it will explain better than I would.”

She took it from him, her fingers numb around the thick parchment. She stared at it, as though willing it to disappear, willing it to be part of this world that would fade if she could only wish it fervently enough. After a few seconds had crawled by and nothing had changed, she finally slid the flap of the envelope open and pulled out the letter within.

_Hey Mipha,_

_Sorry to disappear on you without notice, although I wasn_ _’t given a lot of choice. I hope you didn’t come all the way to Hateno before you found out I was going to be gone. My father asked me to try out this job training with the Royal Knights, which I guess is what his trip to central Hyrule was for. Or maybe it came up another way. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t ask very many questions after he told me I was leaving._

_Don_ _’t worry, it won’t be for long. I promised him I would try it for a month, but there is no way I’m going to be staying longer than that. I finally told him that I don’t want to be a knight. I think he was pretty disappointed, but I’m hoping that we can patch things up when I get back. I don’t know what else I’m going to do yet, but I’m sure when I find it he won’t feel like I’m such a failure._

_I_ _’ll be home before you know it, though. Try not to have too much fun without me!_

_\- Link_

She stared at the words on the page until they blurred together into smears and shapes of color that no longer had meaning. Only a month, he had said. That was hardly any time at all, a small drop in the ocean that was the sum of time allotted to their lives. They would miss out on perhaps three or four visits, no more, and then everything could return to normal.

Except that was not what she felt in her gut. It felt as though everything around her had shifted, and the moment he had wandered beyond the borders of his sleepy town he had gone forever out of her reach. There was no logical basis for this feeling, no reasonable truth that she could tie to it to make it plausible. She could not place why she felt as such, but still she knew that it was so. Link was gone, and she had a horrible feeling that it wasn’t temporary.

“Mipha? Are you alright?” Vallus’ voice filtered through the haze of her panic, and she realized that she had not moved an inch for what must have been several minutes. She forced herself to lift her gaze, commanding the muscles on her face to smile even if it felt far more like a grimace in her present state.

“Yes, of course. Thank you for delivering this to me. I am sorry to have bothered you.” She sounded hollow and mechanical, but she could not summon a better facade at the moment.

He brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, and it was like a beacon to her shattered attention. Her eyes refocused on him, seeing him sharply once again. “I’m sorry, Mipha. It was…a sudden departure.”

He looked like a man that had been dragged through splintered glass, ripped to pieces as he went along. As though the absence of his son was a greater loss than he knew how to survive. It seemed that Vallus, too, did not view the assignment as temporary. It made her sad for him, wishing that she could reach out and erase the pain with words of comfort, but it also piqued her slumbering sense of anger. If it hurt him so, why force it? Link had made it clear in his letter that this was his father’s wish and not his own, so what purpose did it serve for Vallus to place so much suffering on his shoulders if it only made them each miserable? “Why? Why did you send him to the castle?” the question hovered between a plea and an accusation, her need to comfort at war with her need to reprimand him for disregarding Link’s wishes.

“Because it was where he needed to be.” Vallus sagged, his shoulders slumping as he looked at her. “I am sorry that does little to help you understand. I couldn’t make him understand, either. But in time both of you might, and I hope when that time comes that you will find it in yourselves to forgive me.”

Her anger, the small and feeble creature that it was, evaporated at the last of his words. She was never very good at holding her temper, even when it was warranted, and seeing how much this was hurting him was enough to dissipate it once more. “I do not blame you, Vallus. I don’t understand, but I am sure that you would not have acted without good reason. I bear you no ill will.”

“Thank you, Mipha. That is…unexpectedly kind.” He blinked, tears beading at the corners of his eyes.

She bowed at the waist, smiling with more ease. “Thank you for speaking with me. I shall see you in a month’s time, when he returns.”

When she met his gaze, she knew that neither of them felt that was what would happen. Still, she would cling to the hope that this oozing premonition filling her veins was wrong. She would take the letter for truth, and count the days until she could visit her friend again. She would trust that Link would find a way back home, where he belonged. She told herself these things as she bid Vallus farewell, and she kept it up like a prayer the entire way back home, through the winding waterways and rolling hills. She promised her fretful mind that all would be well, and that she would see him soon, smiling and full of stories of his brief stint as a knight. By the time she had arrived home and retired to her room, she had almost convinced herself that it was true.

 


	6. Oh No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Link arrives at the castle.

It towered in front of him, so large and monolith that it sprawled across his view of the horizon like a looming storm, blotting out the sun where it had risen only an hour ago. Epona ambled closer and he passed beneath the shadows cast by the spires, his head tilted back so he could see just how far they climbed. It was made of slate grey bricks that were half the size of his house in Hateno, stacked one upon the other on top the sheer-edged island to form walls and battlements and towers. Flags emblazoned with the royal crest flapped in the wind, and the water churning in the moat lapped against feet of the cliffs. _Imposing_ did not do the structure justice. It was downright terrifying, and now that he had arrived, he felt small and insignificant. An ant, crawling up the mountain while he prayed he would be able to find his way down again.

He did not belong here.

Link had been told that he had been to the castle, when he was much younger. His father said he had an old friend that worked here, and they had stopped by for a visit. He couldn’t remember the trip, of course, and so it might as well have been as though he had never seen it at all. Still, he did his best to look as though he were not out of place as he rode over the bridge towards the gates. The town outside the castle was to his back, and for that he was glad. So many people had tried to sell him things or hire him for work that he had been overwhelmed in moments. He was once again thankful to have a well-trained horse, as Epona dealt with the furor with calm grace, carrying him through towards his destination with unfailing ease.

At the other side of the bridge there were two knights, waiting for him in gleaming armor that looked as though it had been polished minutes ago. Epona slowed without prompting as he neared them, and the one on the right looked up at him.

“Dismount and state your purpose.” Her voice sounded tinny as it echoed inside her helm, but it also sounded bored and tired. Link did as he was asked, getting off Epona as well as he could. He was still ungainly with mounting and dismounting, though he had gotten comfortable with riding after the first few hours on the road. He swallowed, closing his eyes and counting to three before he turned back to face the guards.

“Hello, I’m supposed to report for training with the knights?” he hadn’t intended it to be a question, but his voice lilted upwards at the end of its own volition.

The knight flipped the visor of her helmet up, and Link saw bright green eyes peering out at him. She looked him up and down, placing one hand on her hip. “You Vallus’ boy?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The second knight snorted out a short laugh. “ _’Ma’am’_.”

“Shut it, Tavitz.”

“Yes _ma_ _’am_.” He replied, still suppressing laughter.

She sighed, and Link was sure she rolled her eyes before turning back to him. “We were expecting you, although not until later today. You must have made good time.”

He brushed his hand against Epona’s neck absently, nodding his head. “I think she’s the one that made the time, I was just along for the ride.”

The edges of her eyes crinkled as her cheeks lifted, and he could tell that she was smiling. “Good answer.” She stuck her hand out, and he took it, his own crushed between the metal of her gloves as she shook his arm up and down firmly. “I’m Evelina, and this here is Tavitz.”

“Link. Nice to meet you.” He winced as his hand was released, and hoped that she hadn’t seen it.

Tavitz shrugged, his posture announcing his boredom. “Yeah, pleasure.”

Evelina lifted her helm off her head, tucking it underneath her arm as a mess of rolling red hair came tumbling out of it. She smiled, heart-shaped lips parting to reveal front teeth with a slight gap between them. She was covered in a thousand freckles, her cheeks blooming with red from the heat of being inside the helm beneath the dawning sun.

“C’mon, we’ll have your horse stabled and get you to the barracks.” She jerked her head towards the castle proper, and he grabbed Epona’s reins, ready to follow.

“Aw, Evie, let me go. I didn’t sleep last night, I could use the change of pace.” Tavitz held his hands out in front of him, lacing the fingers together as he begged.

Link had to take a step back from the force of the irritation that sprang to life from Evelina. “ _My name,_ Tavitz, is _Evelina._ And it isn’t my fault you don’t understand a clock well enough to go to bed on time.”

“Yes _ma_ _’am._ ” He sounded as though he were pouting, and Link had no doubt that the man was sulking beneath the confines of his headgear.

Evelina rolled her eyes and turned away, walking toward the castle with enough speed that Link had to jog a few steps to catch up with her. He spared a glance backwards, watching Tavitz return to attention, staring at the next set of people that had started working their way across the bridge. Evelina turned away from the main entrance, leading him around the side of a castle that still felt like a thunderstorm ready to strike him down. He tried to focus on her footsteps in front of him, rather than the behemoth architecture beside him.

“Stables are just this way, ‘round the edge of the west wall, and you’ll find the training yard and barracks not far from there.” She looked at him, taking in his terrified expression, and offered a comforting smile. “I know it looks big, but I promise it feels smaller when you get used to it.”

“I suppose...” He murmured, wondering how a place so massive could ever feel small.

She stopped without warning, causing him to run into her and set her armor clanging. He stepped back, blinking at her as she wrinkled her nose.

“Listen, I know it’s a lot. I’m from a little outpost in Faron, and I had the same look on my face when I got here. I promise, you’ll get the hang of it.” She grinned, the freckles on the bridge of her nose dancing as her cheeks moved.

He mustered enough good cheer to give her a real smile, appreciating her sentiment even if it was wasted on him. “Thanks.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t _want_ to get used to it. He didn’t want to adjust, he didn’t want the palace to seem small. He wanted to get through the next thirty days as fast as possible so that he could go home. As far as he was concerned, the palace could stay huge and strange forever, because it would have nothing to do with him.

Evelina nodded, then turned and resumed her march. She led him to the stables and helped him get Epona settled, brushing her quickly and filling a trough with food. He was sad to have to leave her behind, missing the comfort of her presence the minute she was out of sight, but he knew that he couldn’t use her as a crutch forever. Evelina took him into the barracks, where he met a number of people whose names and faces all blurred together. He was given a uniform to wear, assigned a bed to sleep in, and a small man with very bright makeup on took his measurements and informed him that his armor would be ready by morning.

He felt as though every time he blinked something new was happening, and he was dragged from place to place and person to person, his hand shaken up and down and greetings exchanged. He hardly said a word each time, and the people he was speaking to hardly seemed to notice. Many of them seemed to know his father, or at least know of his father, which surprised him. He hadn’t been aware that his father had so many friends in central Hyrule, though he supposed he must have made more than one or two when he had been a knight. It made him wonder why his father had never wanted to move back, since it wasn’t as though his mother was keeping him in Hateno anymore.

Eventually they were done with the tour, and an impatient looking knight with short black hair had told Evelina to take Link out to train with the knights in the yard. There he was reintroduced to Tavitz again, as well as a skinny blonde man deigned only as Dubs and a gruff looking brunette named Malaia. They had started to spar, and in less than three minutes Link found himself disarmed and knocked flat on his back, much to the amusement of Tavitz. After three hours of tutelage and far more patience that was deserved from Evelina, Link managed to last one round against Dubs…only to slip and ram the practice pole directly into Evelina’s face.

Tavitz told her that the black eye looked good on her, which did not go over well in the least.

By the time they were allowed to return to the barracks, he felt as though he had crammed a week’s worth of training with his father into one short day. He had bruises all over his sides and chest, and aches in muscles that he hadn’t even known existed until now. He inhaled his dinner, barely tasting it through the ravenous hunger that demanded to be sated, and he didn’t talk much with the other knights around him. Evelina tried to pull him into conversation a few times, but after that had resulted in him apologizing for her eye for the eighth time in a row she had finally let him be silent. He felt bad that he was being so standoffish, but he also knew that they were all looking at him with disappointment. The son of the great knight had turned out to be a dud, so terrible at combat that he had beamed his own tutor and turned half her face the color of a plum. No one had said as much, but he could feel them all thinking it in the way their eyes would pause on him as they scanned the room.

He had just made it to his bed after dragging himself from dinner when there was a commotion at the front of the room, and Malaia stuck her head around the edge of the door, her eyes wide. “Psst, surprise inspection.”

Evelina and Tavitz jumped off their beds, rushing to set the blankets to right, and half a second later everyone else in the room followed suit. Link lifted himself back to his feet, swaying in his exhaustion as he tried to make his mind wake back up enough to comprehend what was happening.

Evelina snapped her fingers at him, biting her lip. “Stand up straight, and don’t say a word.”

“What’s going on?”

“The king comes by every now and again. Just blend in and you’ll be fine.” She gave him a thumbs up before snapping her arms to her side and looking straight ahead. He stood with his spine rigid and his shoulders thrown back, mimicking the stance of the other knights.

Seconds later two fully armored knights entered the room and stood at attention on either side of the door, and in walked the man that Link would have known as the king even if no one had told him he was coming. King Rhoam would have looked like a king to a person who didn’t even know what a king was, so regal and imposing was his presence. He wore thick robes that splayed behind him as he walked, his massive boots leaving deep marks in the carpet. His beard looked like it possessed powers all its own, as though his facial hair had been made to defeat and devour enemy facial hair in order to grow stronger. Each of the knights in the room looked forward, jaws clenched as they held their own under the imperious regard of the intimidating man walking among them. Link tried to hold his breath, to keep from moving even a single solitary inch, hoping that he would blend in with the background and remain unnoticed. He had never seen a man that terrified him more than King Rhoam, and he did not want to draw his attention.

Then he saw _her_ , and every thought in his head turned to star bursts of nothing and faded away.

She walked two steps behind the king, hands clasped behind her back as she glanced at each knight that she passed. Her long, pale hair was drawn up away from her face in an intricate braid, revealing her neck and curving jawline, a chain of gold slanted across her collarbone. She moved like she was made of music, her heart beating to a secret rhythm that made her more graceful than the rest of them. Certainly more graceful than himself. Her eyes were blue, but not like sapphires, or the sky, or anything so common. They were like someone had taken the blue flecks out of opals and given them life, molding them into swirling wonder that drew him forward as strongly as the force that kept him rooted to the ground. She looked at everyone before her with courtesy, but also disinterest, and by the set of her delicate lips it seemed that she was holding back a sigh of boredom at each moment. He wondered what it must look like when she truly smiled, what might happen to those eyes when they were filled with the fire of curiosity or excitement.

He realized that he had been staring when the King stopped in front of him, glaring down with a raised eyebrow. “You there. Name?”

_Oh no._

“Link, sir. I mean your majesty.” His name came out garbled, sounding more like ‘lunk’ than what it should have been, and he bit the inside of his cheek to try and wake his mouth up from the numbness that had overcome it. He had been stupid. He had lost his sanity, staring at the girl like a fool, and managed to do the one thing he had so desperately wanted to avoid: get noticed. Was there anything he couldn’t fail at?

“Link.” The king rolled the word around on his tongue as though testing it for weakness. “I recognize that name, and I’d know that nose anywhere. Are you Vallus’ son?”

His eyes widened to their limit and he nodded, incapable of speech. Why did the King know his father? Why did the King know who _he_ was? Was he so involved with his militia that he knew them all by name? Perhaps his father had worked with him at some point when he had still been a knight. Father often talked about his old best friend, telling stories of their adventures and all the chaos that they had caused before he had met Link’s mother, but he had never mentioned knowing the King. Link spared a look at the girl out of the corner of his eye, not daring to put his full gaze towards her but unable to resist checking if she was still there, making sure that she was real, and not a figment of his imagination. He was horrified to see that she was glaring at him, those eyes that so enthralled him now filled with irritation. It was only in passing, her regard gone a heartbeat later, but it stung even after it had faded. He swallowed, feeling it catch in his throat so that he wanted to cough, and he prayed to the Goddess that he wouldn’t.

“Hmph. Scrawnier than I would have thought.” The King raised a hand, scratching his chin beneath the mammoth beard. Link heard Tavitz choke on a small laugh somewhere behind him, and he fought the urge to turn and scowl. “Vallus didn’t tell me you were so short, either.”

“Sorry, sir. Your Majesty.” He hung his head, feeling his cheeks start to burn. He would have paid good rupees to have lightning pour out of the ceiling and strike him where he stood, if only it would get him out of this moment.

The king chuckled, smirking beneath the folds of facial hair. “Never apologize for what no man can change, boy. So, tell me, how do you find the Knights?”

“Excellent, Sir. Your Majesty.” It wasn’t a lie, as he did find them all exceptional. He merely left out the rest of the truth, omitting the part about how he did not belong anywhere near them, and they would all be safer once he’d gone.

“Good. And your father? He is well?”

“Yes, sir. Your majesty.”

The king’s eyebrow drifted skyward again. “You are not as chatty as he was, I see. Perhaps you take after your mother in that regard.”

At that Link lifted his head, his gaze snapping to search the king’s face, to read it for whatever clues they held about his mother.

“Ah, _now_ I have your attention. Tell me, Link. Do you know what your mother would have said, to see you standing here amongst the Royal Knights?”

“No, sir. Your majesty.” He spoke breathlessly, his heart catching in his throat while his head started to spin. He had never thought of what she might think…Link had never known his mother, so it was difficult to imagine what she would feel towards him. Standing before the king, however, he was forced to consider it and face the truth. A ball of cold shame curled around his stomach, making feel heavier than he had a moment before. She had loved his father, married him and died giving birth to his son. Surely she would have loved to see Link become a knight, as well. The realization was a terrible one, because it made him understand that with his failures he was not only letting his father down, but disappointing the memory of his mother.

“I believe she would have been proud.” The king finished, stroking his beard. The rest of the guards in the room started snickering, and Link’s embarrassment increased. She would not have been proud, of that Link was sure. She would have been mortified, to see him flounder through his father’s teaching, only to wind up with a prestigious position that he would have squandered whether he wanted to or not. Now he was made to seem a child in front of his peers, who saw through the legacy his father had left behind to the boy that had become of it: quiet, awkward, clumsy, and a detriment to everyone around him.

“Father, the hour grows late.” The girl behind him spoke, and even though her tone was filled with impatience, Link felt like someone had filled his ears with starlight. He risked a glance at her, but she was looking only at the king.

It was then that her words sank into his mortified brain, and he felt his stomach drop to somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. _Father._ She had called the king ‘father’, which would make her the princess. He had been gaping like a mule at the princess of Hyrule, fabled to be the most fair and regal woman that existed. He had heard stories about her splendor and her kindness, listened to starry-eyed villagers moon about the times they had seen her. Little Sammy had been so enamored that she had started telling everyone that would listen that she was going to grow up to marry her so that they could both become queen. Everyone said that Princess Zelda was the true treasure of Hyrule, the light that shone brighter than the sun.

He didn’t think the rumors did her justice.

“That it does, Zelda. Indeed, it does.” He straightened his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back again. “Link. If you are even half the knight your father was, then I should make good use of you.”

_Oh no._ “Yes sir. Your majesty.”

“In fact, I believe I have a task suited for a young man of your promise. Come, I will explain.” The king began walking towards the back of the room, leaving Link and Zelda standing together and staring at him with equal confusion. She glanced at him, her eyes moving over him and through him, dismissing him with a single blink of her long lashes, and then she was walking after her father, taking long strides to catch up to his pace. Link just stared, his mouth dropping open with a slowness that made it feel like time had stopped.

An elbow was driven into his ribs, snatching him back to reality, and he turned to see Evelina looking at him with raised eyebrows, her eye rimmed in purple that was getting darker by the hour. “Link! Go! Don’t leave the king waiting.”

He shook his head, as though rattling his brain around could return the world to normalcy, tripping over himself to follow the royalty out of the room. He caught up just as the princess was walking through the door, letting it swing closed behind her as she flounced down the hall. If she knew that he was following, she gave no indication. He continued at a light jog, keeping a handful of paces behind them without losing sight. They wound their way through several corridors before the king stopped in front of a door, turning the handle and pushing it open before gesturing that Zelda enter. She swept into the room and Link lost sight of her, at which point he became acutely aware of the king’s eyes on him. He swallowed, reminding himself to breathe as much as his panic addled chest was able, and hurried to make it to the door the _king of Hyrule_ was holding open for him.

He entered and found himself in a study, with towering shelves full of books built floor to ceiling on each of the walls. A lavish desk sat towards the back of the room, and several plush chairs were arranged in a semicircle around it. A handful of candles had been lit in holders on the desk, and someone had placed lanterns on the wall that flickered in a quiet war between light and shadow. The king made his way to the desk, walking around to take a seat behind it. Link stood to attention in front of it, and Zelda affected a polite posture next to him. She did not look at him, and the king did not ask that they take seats.

“Link, I have a task that I feel may serve as a better method of training than our standard fare.”

“Of course, sir. Your majesty.”

“Are you familiar with the Divine Beasts?” the king placed his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together to serve as a rest for his chin. He saw Zelda looking at him out of the corner of her eye as her posture stiffened, and it made his stomach do a nauseating flip. He couldn’t read the expression that passed across her face, as it was there and gone too fast, but he had a feeling it was not a welcoming one.

“Um, no, sir. Your majesty.”

“They are great mechanical beasts that the Sheikah have been excavating. We believe they will be a great boon to our kingdom should the great Calamity rise again, as we were warned may come to pass.”

“Oh.” He felt stupid saying nothing more useful than that, but he was so out of his depth that words felt like poorly made bombs, each one that he used just as likely to blow up in his face as the last. He wanted to use as few of them as he could.

“We need to find champions to pilot the beasts, and I have ordered the hunt for such individuals. I believe you will be well-suited in assisting with this task, and locating exceptional people from across Hyrule to -”

“But you said I was to find them!” Zelda’s vehemence startled Link, and he jumped, turning to look at her. This time, for the first time, she was looking directly at him, and he had never wished more that he could be invisible. She was furious, her eyes sparkling with a blaze of anger that made him take a step back. Beneath that was pain, a churning storm of hurt that Link didn’t understand but had somehow been thrust into the center of. He wanted to say something, _anything_ to set her at ease, but he was at a loss.

“I have not said that was to change.” The king replied evenly.

Zelda held her chin higher, looking across the room at her father with defiance. “Then I do not need him.”

The king frowned, his brow furrowing so that his eyebrows became one long bridge above his nose. “Surely two heads are better than one.”

“No, I have not asked for assistance.” Her voice shook on the first word, but gained strength for the rest. Link found himself rooting for her, hoping that she would talk the king out of this idea. He could not blend in and disappear in a month if he was given personal assignments.

“Zelda, this is not a matter that is -”

“Father, I can do this by _myself_. I have barely begun, you cannot -”

“Silence!” His voice boomed, filling the room with sound that was as much a threat as a command, demanding obeisance that was immediate and unquestioning. He turned his eyes to Link, and he wilted beneath their regard. “Link, will you commit to this undertaking?”

_Oh no._ “Um, I - y-yes, your majesty.” What else could he say but to assent? He couldn’t tell the king that he didn’t want to be there at all, couldn’t tell him that he was intending on leaving as soon as possible. He couldn’t turn down what amounted to a direct order from the leader of the kingdom. He was trapped, even more so than he had felt on the long horse ride to the castle.

“No. Father, please, I -” Zelda’s eyes were too bright, and Link could see the tears that she was holding back with every shred of strength she had. He wished he weren’t a part of their cause. He didn’t understand why this was so upsetting to her, but he would have given anything to take it back.

“Enough. I care not for your complaints.” The king’s announcement was icy cold before he waved, flicking his fingers towards the door, and it was clear that they were being dismissed. Zelda turned and marched out of the room, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Link took one look at the king’s face and quickly turned on his own heel, fleeing towards the exit as fast as he was able. He would have liked to stay, to ask him questions, to discern how the man knew his father and mother, but now was not the time. Zelda remained in the hall, standing with her head bowed so that tendrils of her hair escaped her braids and hung on either side of her face. She looked as though someone had struck her, wounding her in some unseen way.

He took a step towards her, thinking of a thousand ways that he could apologize for whatever it was that had just happened. “I-”

“I have nothing to say to you.” She cut him off like a blade snapping across ribbon, turning from him and walking down the hall without sparing a single glance, her hair swaying behind her like a pendulum. He watched her go until she was out of sight, marveling at how badly this day had gone. He wondered if it were even possible for it to have gone worse, as he couldn’t imagine such a thing. He had been an embarrassment to his fellow knights, been noticed by the king, and offended the princess, all in less than twenty-four hours. Now his plans were threatened, as he had a task to complete at the behest of the highest office that could issue it, and not only did he have no idea how to accomplish it, he had no idea how long it would take. This was not how things were meant to go. This was not part of his plan.

_This_ was not what he had bargained for.

 


	7. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made. Separately.

She slammed the door to her room, pacing back and forth in front of her bed, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or hit something.

How could he do this? Had he so little faith in her abilities that he could not even allow her to attempt the project before he was handing it over to someone else? She had not had the chance to do anything more than discuss her ideas for where to begin, so it seemed a colossal unfairness that he had deemed her unfit to continue at this juncture. Admittedly her plans had been sparse, but she had not thought them so defective that they would be cause for concern.

She sat on her bed, her face crumpling as tears slipped down her cheeks. She had tried so hard to stay in his good graces for the past few days. She had been timely and attentive to her prayers, throwing herself into them with more dedication than she had been able to muster in some time. She had held meetings with some of the historians in the castle to discuss possible places to start searching for the Champions, going over the history of the regions where they had been discovered. She had shared everything with her father, keeping him up to date as thoroughly as he would have expected from any of his advisors. He had even looked proud, at one point, or so she had thought. What more could she have done? What was her err that had made her father think adding some no-name prestige seeker was necessary to bring them success?

A soft knock at her door intruded on her misery, and she glared at it as she wiped her eyes. “Go away!” she didn’t care if it was her father or a knight, she had no wish to talk to any of them. She had a great many things that she wished she could say, but she knew that she would be unable to take them back once they had left her lips. She wished to wield words as arrows, sticking them into places where they could cause the most pain, to inflict even a fraction of what she carried in her own chest. Perhaps then her father would understand what it was that he had done.

“Zelda, it’s Impa. Do you still wish me to leave?” the voice on the other side of the door was warm, and she regretted her terse tone from before. She stood and walked across the room to fling the door open, not bothering to wipe the fresh tears that welled out of her eyes.

Impa looked her over and smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I heard your…altercation, and I came to check on you.” She shuffled in the room, her soundless footsteps barely over the threshold before she took the handle from Zelda and shut the door.

“Oh Impa, how did I fail him before I even started?” she wandered back to her bed, slumping onto the edge and sending the blankets around her billowing from the sudden shift in weight.

“Hush! You have not failed him.” The Sheikah followed her, taking a seat beside her. “He is proud of you and all that you have achieved.”

“Well, he has a funny way of showing it.” She sniffed, feeling her tears fade into the burning irritation of anger again. “Besides, I have not yet accomplished anything. I don’t see how I could have possibly made him proud _or_ disappointed. Does he trust me so little?”

Impa’s face was full of gentle regret, and she lifted her hand to place an errant strand of Zelda’s hair back behind her ear. “I’m certain that was not the reason he selected the young knight.”

She sighed, feeling her anger expel with her breath as defeat settled into her empty chest. “I suppose it does not matter. The _king_ has made his decree.” She used her father’s title with so much acidic bitterness that it became an insult, and she wished she had the courage to say as much to his face. Not that he would have listened, in any case.

“It is not the end of the world to have more than one person working towards our goal. That being said, would I perhaps be able to cheer you if I offered a leg up on the competition?” Impa’s face changed, her eyes glittering in a way that only ever happened when she had made a discovery or was planning a bit of mischief, though the two often coincided.

“What do you mean?” she was suspicious of her mentor, but a small spark of hope fluttered in her chest all the same.

“I happen to have a very good idea who might be capable of piloting the Beast we found in the wastelands, and I think _you_ might just be the only one capable of convincing her to do it.”

“Me?”

Impa leaned close, tapping her on the side of the nose as she grinned. “So, are you up to it?”

“Yes, of course.” She didn’t care what it was, she would do it. She would do anything to prove her father wrong.  “What do I need to do?”

“Prepare your things.” I will inform the king that you have asked that we leave for the Forbidden City as soon as possible.”

“Forbidden City?” her eyes grew wide as it dawned on her who Impa must intend as their Champion, and a swell of excitement swept through her. “You aren’t think of -”

“I am.” Impa nodded, smug and sage in the same turn. “Urbosa is the perfect candidate, but she has been reluctant to give it a try.”

Zelda had known the Lady Urbosa since she was a small girl, cherishing her as she would a member of her own family. The Gerudo warrior had made frequent visits to the castle while her mother had been alive, as the pair of them had been close friends. She could still remember spending days in the gardens with the two women, chasing butterflies as they discussed a hundred things she had not payed attention to as a child. Looking back, she wished that she had memorized more of it. Recollection was a fickle thing, and it was always sorrowful to her which things the mind left behind in the march of time. She found that many things she wished she still held with her had disappeared, all because she had taken the moments for granted when they had occurred.

She sighed, shaking the morose thoughts from her mind and refocusing on the discussion at hand. Zelda hadn’t seen her in what felt like ages, and the prospect of paying her a visit to Urbosa was enough to wipe the despair over her father out of her mind, at least for the moment. Moreover, she couldn’t have agreed more with Impa. Urbosa was a perfect candidate, and Zelda would be honored if she accepted the position.

“Impa that’s brilliant. You are a blessing I do not deserve.”

“Hush, I am doing my job for the better of Hyrule. Now, dry your eyes and begin readying yourself for the trip, I shall go share _your_ plan with the king at once. We’ll be there and back before that country bumpkin even learns where the Divine Beasts are.”

 “Thank you.” Zelda took her hand, squeezing her fingers to impart the full weight of her gratitude.

Impa winked, stepping back and turning away to head towards the exit. She waved as she walked out the door, and Zelda knew that she was smirking even though she couldn’t see her face.

She took a deep breath, feeling all her woes become small and unimportant in the face of the new task set before her. She liked the idea of Urbosa serving as their champion, and further than that she liked the idea of bringing her back before that knight had a chance to even start. She would show her father that she was up to this task, and did not require the help of some boy simply because his father had known her own. What sort of ludicrous qualification was that, in any case?

***

He should have been asleep, but after the events in the study he hadn’t been able to shut his eyes, so he had gotten out of bed, grabbed some materials explaining the Sheikah excavations and the machines, and wandered to the dining hall. He sat at one of the tables, the book full of information on the Divine Beasts open beside him, his gaze glued to a glass of water as though it held some kind of answer.

He could not believe that he had been singled out, when all he had wanted to do was keep his head down and get all of this over with. Now he didn’t even know if he was going to be able to leave at all, much less on time. These machines that the king wanted pilots for, they were supposed to be Hyrule’s greatest defense against a return of the darkness. According to the notes that he had been reading, they barely understood how they worked, much less how to operate them. Yet somehow, in some way, Link was supposed to find someone strong enough and talented enough to become its pilot. He didn’t even know the first place to look, nor the criteria that he should be looking for. All he wanted to do was go home, and each second he was here it seemed that some new disaster had happened that would make his dreams more and more difficult to achieve.

Then there was the Princess.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes had flashed when she looked at him. He hadn’t even been able to speak to her, and already he had ruined her impression of him. What must she think? What must she see when she had him in her gaze? He didn’t fully understand why the king’s request made her so angry, but he wished that he could change it. He wished that he could talk to her, maybe explain himself so that she knew this wasn’t his idea, or at least learn of a way to make himself less of a burden. He had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was already too late for that, though, and that whatever damage had been done was irreparable. He could add it to the list of things he had screwed up today, another tally in the failure column.

His parents must be _so_ proud.

“You look miserable.”

A low, bass voice thrummed from directly behind him, pulling him out of his stupor. He looked up to see a young man with jet black hair and teal eyes staring down at him, a smirk splayed across his shapely lips. His hair hung over his gaze, casting shadows across his tan skin, outlining the angles of his features so that he looked like an impish statue. He had broad shoulders but a lean build, the dark fabric draped over his chest outlining his honed physique. Link could tell that he knew how to fight just by his posture, the way leaned into the arch of his feet as though ready to pounce at any moment speaking of impeccable balance. He didn’t wear a knight’s uniform, nor was he dressed as a Sheikah. Link could have asked why, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, returning his gaze to the glass of water once again. 

“Yep.” He didn’t waste energy denying the man’s statement, as he didn’t have the energy to spare. He _was_ miserable, so it came as no surprise that he looked it.

The man frowned, putting his hands on his hips. “Geez kid, way to overplay it. When I came to find the guy they said was singled out by the king, I didn’t expect to find him moping into a glass of…oh for crying out loud, is that _water?_ Are you moping into a glass of _water?_ ”

“Yep.” Link didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on the aforementioned glass.

“Of course it is.” The man sighed, walking around the table and grabbing a chair, flipping it in the other direction and sitting on it backwards. He folded his arms over the back and rested his chin on top of them, regarding Link like he was an interesting bug found crawling across the floor. “You know, a lot of people would be happy if they were in your shoes.”

“Yep.”

The man across from him rolled his eyes. “Do you even _know_ other words?”

“ _Yes._ ” He said it as pointedly as he could, affixing the newcomer with a sardonic frown.

He laughed, slapping the tabletop with his palm. “You know what? You look like you need a friend, and that makes you incredibly lucky, because it just so happens at this very moment I am totally free.” He winked, and his expression was full of so much good humor that Link couldn’t help but feel better when he smiled. “Name’s Sota, at your service. So, spill it. Why the long face?” he settled in the chair more comfortably, and there was an earnestness to his demeanor that was unmistakable.

For a moment he remained silent, looking at Sota and trying to weigh his options. He wasn’t wrong, though, and Link knew it with a level of bitterness that stuck in the back of his throat like an itch that could never be scratched. He could use a friend, someone that he could confide in without worrying that he would offend anyone. He wasn’t sure yet if Sota was that person, but he was sitting across from him and offering, and that made it hard to turn down.

“I’m Link, from Hateno. I showed up this morning, have no idea what I’m doing, gave Evelina a black eye, and now the King has given me an assignment that I have no idea how to complete.”

Sota tilted his head to the side. “Well…wow, yeah, I guess I see your point.” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling in such an awkward way that Link had to return it. He blinked several times before he seemed to come alive with enthusiasm, holding out his hand as though Link had been poised to leave. “But, wait, let’s take this apart. These problems don’t seem so unsolvable, there’s just a lot of them.” He rubbed his hands together, his eyes aflame with fervor. “Okay, so you’re new, and I’m afraid time is the only solution to that problem. But the good news is you have some! Problem solved.” He held out his fingers, extending a second and a third as he continued to speak. “You have no idea what you’re doing, but hey, we’ve all gotta start somewhere! Evelina’s black eye, uh, okay I definitely can’t help with that one, but maybe she’s a good sport about it?” he shrugged, lowering his hands to splay them across the table. “But that last part, the task: I bet I can help with that!”

Link blinked at him, tilting his head to the side. “You can?”

“Well, yeah. Probably. Maybe. I mean, you should tell me what it is, and then we can cross that bridge.”

“I’m supposed to find champions to pilot the things. The Beasts?”

Sota raised his eyebrows, whistling out of the side of his mouth. “Wow, yeah that’s a…thing. Just you on your lonesome?”

“No, the Princess is…um, I think we’re working separately.” He left out the part where she had refused to look at him for more than a few seconds, and even then it was only to glare with impotence. The message had been clear all the same, and Link couldn’t quite bring himself to admit out loud just how badly that introduction had gone.

“Hm.” Sota tapped his finger against his chin, his eyes unfocused and aimed at the ceiling. After a few moments he changed abruptly again, clapping his hands together loud enough that Link jumped. “Hey, I think I actually _can_ help with that!”

“Really?” Link sounded almost as surprised as Sota did, and he raised his eyebrow at the man.

“Yeah! So, I heard that one of the Divine Beasts is almost ready for operation up in the Eldin region, the one they’ve been dredging out of the volcano. It would be a good start to give it a visit, get a feel for it. I would hedge my bets that if you stopped by the Goron capital, you might find a clue or two about who could run it. If anybody can pilot that big, stupid lizard, it’s gonna be one of those rockheads.”

“That’s brilliant!” in his misery, he hadn’t done much planning, but he wasn’t sure he would have considered seeking out the Gorons for help. It made sense, however, as it was found in their region. They were used to the heat, and had been working with metals since the dawn of time. Maybe if he found the right Goron, he could even help the Sheikah learn more about the machine than they had been able to discern on their own.

“I know.” Sota winked, flashing a charming smile. “And as a special bonus prize, I’m willing to accompany you on the trip!”

“Wait, really? Don’t you have better things - I mean, duties or something?”

Sota waved off the concern, placing his hands behind his head. “Ah, not really. I’m not an official member of the knights, just an…interloper, if you will. Besides, you can’t go by yourself. You need a…a squire!”

Link laughed, shaking his head. “No, I don’t need a squire. That’s probably the last thing I need…but I _could_ use a friend.”

Sota stood, walking back around the table until he was in front of him. He lifted himself out of the chair as well, taking his hand and shaking it enthusiastically, the pair of them grinning like kids who had just found a treasure map and had agreed to split it.

“Friends, then.” Sota looked pleased, and it made Link inordinately happy that this was the case.

It didn’t solve all his problems, but it was a start. It gave him shades more direction than he had moments before, as he now had a place to start in untangling this miserable mess he had gotten himself into. Maybe with a little help he would be able to find the champion before the month was up, and get back in time to go home as he had planned. Since it was Sota’s idea, maybe Link could even convince the king to give the job to him, ceding the responsibility without completely failing. No doubt the Princess would find Sota’s help more palatable than his own, though that realization made Link feel like he had a shard of ice lodged in his chest. In any case, it certainly made him feel less dour to have someone on his side.

For the first time since he had left, Link had a bit of hope, and it was the best thing that had happened to him all day.


	8. Born Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone is leaving at the same time. Separately.

Early dawn crested over the tops of the spires, the light making her squint as she kept her gaze forward. She was making a valiant effort not to glare at the other side of the courtyard, where that knight and his companion where preparing to leave on their own journey. She was irritated beyond measure that he had been able to make plans and ready himself to act on them in such a short amount of time, but she was also adamant in her denial of that irritation, at least outwardly. She was, in truth, more irritated by the sheer fact that she was irritated in the first place, and was dissolving into a circular storm of pique that would not subside. She focused on keeping every muscle in her body as stiff and unmoving as she could, so that she did not give away an ounce of it. It was bad enough that _she_ knew how she felt, she did not need anyone else in existence finding out.

Aside from that, she wanted to give zero hint of her plans or thoughts to the knight. Let him gape and wonder what it was she was setting out to do, what was it to her? He would be as a gnat in a storm, lost in the winds to bother her no further. She was certain that when she returned with Urbosa as the Champion of the Divine Beast in the desert, her father would be so impressed that he would have no further use of this knight. He could send him back to the barracks with the rest of the recruits, where he belonged.

Her eyes drifted to the side, though she kept her head steady. She watched as the knight strapped the last of his bags onto the back of his horse, his hair hanging in front of his face so that she could not see his expression. She wondered if he was pleased with himself, in the way that he had found himself a crumb of honor that he had stolen off his father’s plate. Whomever his father was to hers, which was another thing she would refuse to care about. The knight finished, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, and when he turned to gaze up at the sky his hair fell away, and she could see the furrow across his brow. It was there only for a moment, gone in a single blink, and then he was walking to the front of the horse. He patted its neck, and the creature took a step forward to nuzzle against his cheek, and Zelda would have dropped her jaw had she not been clenching it so tightly. She had never seen a horse behave in such a way, and she wondered what he had done to earn such respect. Was it as easy to get in a horse’s good graces as it was for the king’s?

“Did you have something you would like to say to him before we go, princess?”

She jumped, unaware that she had been observed, unaware that she had fully turned her head to look at the knight, and unaware that Impa had walked over to lean against the wall next to her. The Sheikah was smirking, one eyebrow cocked skyward, and Zelda felt her cheeks heat at the implication.

“Absolutely not.” Which was true. She did not want to wish him luck, she did not want to bother wishing him ill. She did not wish a speedy return, and she certainly did not wish him success. She did not wish anything at all about him, in fact, and drove the thoughts out of her head. He was of no concern to her. “Are we nearly ready? I would like to depart as soon as possible.”

Impa laughed, though it made no more sound than rustling leaves. “Yes, we should be ready within the next half hour.”

“Good.” She was a touch too fervent in her response, and ducked her gaze away to avoid looking at Impa’s appraising expression.

The Sheikah pushed away from the wall, shaking her head with a gusty sigh. “Try to relax, dear child. It would serve you well to have a touch of calm before we arrive in Gerudo.”

She watched as Impa walked across the courtyard towards the knight and his companion, and she was displeased at how much it irritated her that the Sheikah would bother. She pushed herself off the wall, walking to where her horse was waiting beside one of the seasoned knights in her retinue, and the woman scrambled to assist her into the saddle. The horse danced anxiously during the entire process, but eventually settled enough to allow her to mount. She very deliberately did _not_ look across the courtyard through the entire process.

***

Epona made soft, breathy sounds of approval as he scratched the area around the side of her jaw, her tail swishing in delight at the attention. He laughed when she started stamping her foot, shaking his head at the affectionate creature. “Settle down now, or they’ll start thinking you’re a puppy.” She flicked her ears back and forth, as though protesting such a notion, which made him smile all the more.

“So, when do _I_ get issued a fancy, royal horse?” Sota peered around the top of the saddle of his own mount, grinning like a small child. His energy was infections, and Link had found that after spending the morning preparing with him, he was more excited for his journey than mournful. He was glad that he had opened up to the man after all, as his presence was making the entire ordeal not only bearable, but fun.

“She’s great, but I don’t think she’s royal. You’d have to ask my dad where he got her.” Link patted the horse again, moving away from her head to check the straps on her saddle again. He had done so at least four times already this morning, but he felt too full of nervous energy to stand still.

Sota rolled his eyes. “Oh, she’s royal all right. You’re gonna have to introduce me to your dad one of these days, I wanna know about his horse connections.”

“Yeah, maybe we can swing by Hateno sometime, I’m sure you two would get along well.” Link imagined bringing Sota home, introducing him to Mipha and his father, the four of them sharing a meal and swapping stories. He was taken enough with the notion that he decided it was what he would look forward to, the silver lining to his gloomy situation. When they returned from their trip to the Eldin region, successful or not, Link would make sure that Sota got to pay his father a visit.

“Uh oh. Did you get in trouble again?” Sota cleared his throat, and Link looked up to see his friend looking across the courtyard. He had been avoiding looking in that direction as much as possible, as the presence of the princess was a source of anxiety and agitation for him. It seemed as though her anger at him had not dissipated since he had last seen her, and in fact may have increased, if that were possible. She hadn’t so much as looked at him, even though her traveling party and his own had been in the same space preparing to leave for the past hour and a half. Now, though, Link was forced to turn and see what it was his friend was talking about, and he saw the princess sitting astride her horse, her hair fluttering in the wind like a flag spun from sunlight. He chewed on his lower lip, trying to peer through the distance to see the look on her face, but it was no use. Even from yards away he could tell she was still angry.

His eyes refocused, catching movement closer to him, and he was shocked to see the Sheikah woman striding towards him. She was gliding more than walking, every movement she made so smooth and measured that if Link hadn’t been able to see her feet he would have thought she was floating.

He realized her approach must have been what Sota was talking about, and he shrugged, clanging back at him. “Uh…I don’t think so?” He pleaded silently with Sota for him to offer up some help, but he responded by shaking his head and ducking back behind his horse, hiding from the Sheikah as she arrived.

“Good morning. Link, was it?” she spoke as she closed the last few steps between them, coming to a stop in front of him and placing her arms behind her back. She was roughly a foot taller than he was, so he had to look up at her to see her face, which gave no indication of what she was feeling or thinking.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Impa. I’m one of the king’s chief advisors, and lead to the research teams working to excavate and restore the Divine Beasts.” Her lips tilted in the barest of smiles, and he saw the glint of humor flicker to life in her eyes. “I noticed one of our books of notes had been re-allocated. I trust you have made good use of it?”

“Oh! Yes, it has been very helpful. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware anyone would miss it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he had been around longer before he had been thrown into action. He hadn’t the slightest idea what protocols he should be following, and because of it he had apparently offended the chief adviser.

She surprised him when she snorted out a sardonic chuckle, her smirk becoming more apparent. “Don’t apologize, boy, notes are there to be read. I’m just happy someone is willing to pay attention.”

Sota’s head shot up around the top of his saddle again without warning. “I’m paying attention.”

“You had better be.” Impa snapped back without missing a beat, and the grin fell off Sota’s face. “I hope the pair of you are taking this mission seriously. Regardless of your own personal feelings,” she let the first half of that sentence hang as she affixed Link with a pointed gaze, and he shrank back from it as he flooded with guilt, “it is imperative that we find Champions to pilot the machines. Whatever has brought you to this path in life, I would beseech you not to ignore its import.”

She might as well have slapped him, and he wondered if he had been so transparent to everyone else that he had interacted with thus far. He didn’t know how she could have known how much he didn’t want to be there, but she certainly made it clear that it was not an excuse to fail. As should be the case, he realized. He had been so wrapped up in what he wanted, he had failed to truly consider what might happen if he did not do his best to complete his mission. He had still been hoping, on some level, that he might fail, so that the king would disregard his usefulness. What would happen if he did so? How many more people would he be letting down beyond the reach of his father and the king?

Sota blew a puff of air out from between his lips, resting his chin on the top of his saddle. “Geez, that’s pretty harsh. Don’t you have any faith in the Princess to get the job done?”

Impa narrowed her eyes, looking at Sota as though she might want to squish him beneath her heel. “My faith in her is far more unshakable than my faith in _you,_ lost Gerudo.”

“Never fear, Impa. We’re taking this as serious as a funeral.” He vaulted onto his horse, tapping his fingers to his forehead in a half-sincere salute. “Link will bring you a Champion. I promise.”

She relaxed her shoulders, seemingly satisfied with that answer as her agitation towards Sota eased. She returned her attention to him, looking him up and down. “Do you promise, as well, young knight?”

He swallowed, taking a deep breath to give himself time to think. It didn’t matter how long he delayed, however, as there was only one answer he could give. “I promise to give it my best shot.”

She stared at him, and for a moment he thought he had said the wrong thing, that he had angered her as much as he had angered the princess. After several heartbeats that felt like an eternity, however, her face broke into an approving smile, and she bowed her head. “A good and honest answer. I look forward to seeing how you fare.” At that she spun on her heel, heading back across the courtyard with a hasty gait.

“Nice meeting you!” Sota called after her, and Link turned to raise an eyebrow at him with silent admonishment. Sota shrugged. “What? She seems lovely, and not at all complicated and shifty.”

Link snorted, biting his lip to swallow the laughter that tried to bubble out of him. He placed his foot in the stirrup and lifted himself into the saddle, Epona swishing her tail again to signal that she was ready to leave. He turned to his friend, taking the reins and gripping them against his palms. “You ready?”

“Link, my man, I was _born_ ready.”

They urged the horses forward, and Link spared a final glance at the princess, who was still not looking at him. He was sorry that he had to leave this way, and that he had never been given the opportunity to explain himself. Maybe when he returned, and things had settled down, he would be granted a second chance. He would like to be able to speak with her without her shouting. He would like to be able to speak with her, in general.

He swallowed, trying to push the idea out of his mind as he did so. What he would like and what was possible were two very different things, and he had better things to focus on than trying to repair a relationship that didn’t exist. He promised himself that this moment would be the last that he allowed himself to think of Zelda until his mission could be marked complete.

Even if he knew it was a promise he wasn’t likely to keep.


	9. Is it...Doing Something?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda makes important discoveries very awkwardly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I wasn't sure I would finish this chapter today but TADA. Turns out it is much harder to write people who don't know what a camera is suddenly discovering a camera. -_- I really hope this turned out okay and isn't super boring to read. I DID MY BEST. <3

The wood creaked and swayed below her feet, but she was pleased to be off the horse for a change, so she tried not to allow the heights to disturb her. The excavation site for the machine in the wastelands was high along the cliff side, and the industrious Sheikah had worked with the Gerudo volunteers to build a series of wooden bridges that led to it. Ropes and buckets ascended and descended all around her, filled with debris at the top and lowered down to be emptied before rising back to repeat the process. She watched them go, fascinated by the wheels that the ropes spun around, a simple mechanism to provide leverage that made their movement easier. It also served to keep them anchored when the wild winds from the flatlands below them slammed into the cliff. The first time that had happened, it had scared her half to death, buffeting her with sand so that every inch of her felt gritty and rubbed raw while she teetered on the edge of the walkway. It didn’t help that the sun seemed harsher in this part of Hyrule, leering down at them until her skin had turned a solid pink. Still, the environment could not temper her enthusiasm at being able to visit the site where the ancient relics were being brought back into the world.

They passed a half-submerged machine, only partially removed from the flaking sandstone, and she pulled the tablet off her hip to hold it up next to it. She had still failed to get it to do anything beyond glow, but she was hopeful that this outing would give her a better idea of how it might function. It would, at the very least, inspire new things that she could try to learn more about it. She tapped the button on the side and the runes flared to life, but the machine in the wall didn’t react, while the front of the tablet remained blank.

Impa walked over to stand beside her, balanced so that her weight barely disturbed the walkway. “The screen is still blank, I see?”

“Yes.” She sighed, lowering it and looking at the stubborn thing. “I don’t understand why this one does not display words, as the others.” She looked up at Impa as she held the slate to her chest, hugging it as though she feared it would try to escape. “How fares work with the other tablets?”

“We’ve fitted them into a few slots, but the only ones they reacted to were those inside the Divine Beasts…though that was anticlimactic, in the end.”

“Oh?”

“The words changed to read ‘authenticating’ for a brief period, and then they would display the message ‘Waiting for Initiation Sequence’. If we tried a different slate in the same slot, it would go through the same process, and the original slate would go back to saying ‘Authentication Required’. We haven’t been able to get them to do anything else.” She sighed, then scowled as she spoke her next words. “Though Robbie has dubbed them ‘Sheikah Slates’, and it appears that name is sticking, which is progress of a _sort,_ I _suppose._ ”

“Well, that’s…” she wrinkled her nose, trying to think of a polite way to disavow the title.

“On the nose?” Impa smirked, and Zelda could tell they were in accord over their opinion on this matter.

“Well, I’m not the one who said it.”

Impa sighed again, rolling her shoulders. “The fool is thrilled that it was his name that stuck, though, so I don’t have the heart to take it from him. Perhaps when we name the Beasts we will have better inspiration.”

Impa walked further along the walkway, leaving Zelda to trail behind her at her own pace. She looked down at her slate, gazing at the glowing runes sadly. She felt as though she grasped wonders in her palm that she was too blind to see, fumbling around in the dark trying to discover true light. She didn’t know what she was looking for, nor did she know how to find it, but she knew that it was there. She knew it with the same certainty that she had known when she picked this slate over all the others.

She stepped closer to the machine poking out of the rock wall, holding her slate as high as she could, willing it to do something. She angled on her tiptoes, extending her arms to their limit and trying to get the slate to make contact with the unearthed relic before her. She bit her lip, straining to keep her balance, willing herself to be longer.

The wind swooped in behind her, slapping into her back with enough force that the grain of the wood beneath one of her shoes was suddenly too uneven to support the stressful pose, and she was sent careening forward. She screamed, her fingers clamping around the sides of the slate as she tried to keep her hold on it, even as she was faced with the terrifying drop just below her. Her thumb brushed against something that felt like it shifted with an audible click, and her mind whirred with split focus as she tried to look at the slate and avoid falling all at once. One of her hands flew out, on instinct, as involuntary as the panicked breath in her lungs and the stuttered pounding of her heart. For the first and only time in her life, Zelda felt as though she might have been blessed by the Goddess, because her hand found purchase around one of the ropes holding the buckets, checking her potential doom. She swung in a wild arc around the pivot point of her grip, doing a full revolution so that she was facing the other way, dozens of panicked Sheikah staring at her with wide eyes. 

Impa stomped up to her as she tried to catch her breath, and Zelda saw a flash of anger on the woman’s normally calm face. “What were you doing?”

She ignored her, looking down at the slate. She had felt a click, she had heard a click, she _knew_ it…she sucked in a gasp, her heart sinking in her chest. She could see her feet through the slate, as clear as though she were looking through a window. She didn’t recall dropping it, or hitting it. She couldn’t imagine how she could have caused it to fall apart in this way. She reached out to touch what she expected to be air, and was surprised when her fingers bumped into the front that had - until this point - always been blank. She blinked, brushing the tips of her hand across it a few times, to ensure that she was not hallucinating.

“Zelda, are you all right?” Impa’s anger had subsided as she reached out and placed her hand beneath Zelda’s chin, forcing her eyes back up. Impa looked more concerned than anything else at this point, but she was flooding with excitement at this new turn of events and couldn’t bring herself to show the proper level of remorse for worrying her.

“Look!” she held the slate up, at eye level, seeing Impa through the other side as clear as day.

Impa raised an eyebrow. “Is it…doing something?”

“Yes, don’t you see…” she flipped it over, realizing with a start that the effect was not replicated on the other side. “Oh.” She frowned, but heard Impa choke out a sound of surprise.

Her eyes were glued on the part that Zelda had been looking through, wide and astounded. “It’s…translucent.”

Zelda flipped it again, so that she could look through the small window, tilting it in a few different directions. As she moved it, the image changed, showing whatever it was pointed at. The rim of the rectangle had changed, as well, and she now saw blinking runes flickering at the edge of the transparency. There was a small red dot in the center, and a little blue circle in the lower right hand corner. She looked at the dot, recalling the outline of the circle that had been used to make the device glow, and she narrowed her eyes as inspiration struck her. She turned, aiming the slate at the machine buried in the rock wall, and then she tapped the button as Impa moved to peer over her shoulder to observe.

The machine remained unmoving, but the reaction on the slate was interesting, albeit unexpected. It blinked, as though it had paused for a fraction of a second, showing a still picture before resuming its display of what was before it. At the same time, a small square appeared at the bottom left hand corner of the screen, which appeared to be a miniature picture of the moment she had touched the blue button.

She placed her finger over the square, and it enlarged the picture, showing her what had happened in the past. Another small, blue square appeared where the picture had been, and when she tapped that they switched places again. She pointed the slate at Impa and repeated the process. This time, when she tried to enlarge the image, it presented her with both the captured moments, side by side. She tapped one, and it was enlarged to fill the screen. Tapping the blue square in the corner once returned her to her options, and tapping it twice returned her to the window view.

“Well that’s new.” Both Zelda and Impa jumped at the voice behind them, turning to see Robbie leaning over the edge of the walkway above to stare down at them. His hair fluttered in the wind like fog, his glasses were grimy with smudged sand, and his cheeks were bright red from sunburn, but he looked as energetic as ever. “When did it start doing that?”

“Just now!” Zelda held the tablet up, offering it to him so that he could see for himself. “I clicked a button on the side somewhere, and was able to access this new…ability.”

He repeated her actions quickly, testing various angles. “I wonder what purpose this served…”

“To be able to record events with perfect accuracy? I imagine it served a great many purposes.” Impa placed her hand on the small of Zelda’s back, propelling them forward to the next ladder on the walkway, so that they could join Robbie above. She followed without complaint, sparing frequent glances towards Robbie where he was handling the slate. She clambered up the ladder as quickly as she was able, then raced across the wooden bridge to catch up with him.

“Easy, Princess. You go over the edge, your father will have us all beheaded.” Robbie placed a bracing hand on her shoulder, holding her steady as he handed the slate back to her.

She rolled her eyes, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “My father has never beheaded anyone.”

Impa snorted. “Oh, he did, just not since he has become king.”

“What?” she jerked her head up, looking at Impa with suspicion.

Impa waved her hands, shooing them all further along the walkway and dismissing the topic of conversation. “Never mind, I’m not old enough to be recounting your father’s glory days. Come one, we have a Beast to see to.”

They climbed the rest of the way in silence, focusing on their passage rather than banter. She was thankful for the change, as the exertion stole more of her breath than she would have liked. It made her self conscious, and she feared that the volume of her breathing would alert everyone to her difficulty. A life of kneeling did not instill one with exemplary athletic skills, and she had started to become painfully aware of this over the course of her journey.

They reached the top and arrived at the edge of the large hollow that served as the Beast’s lair. It sat amidst a flurry of activity, a mountain of metal as still as death looming over the Sheikah trying to free it from its ten-thousand-year-old tomb. The _scale_ of it took her breath away, stealing it in a rush as she tilted her head to see the entire structure. So long trapped in dormancy, so long stilled beneath the elements that the ground had grown up around it, and still it remained intact. It resembled a great camel, that much was true, but one made from metal and stone, built by hands that were no bigger than their own. How could they, as a people, have once come so far as to be able to create such wondrous things, only to lose almost everything as time marched on? Someone just like her had once looked at the same thing, and they were able to understand everything that their eyes beheld.

She wanted to be that person for her own time. She wanted to learn everything that there was to know.

Robbie clapped her on the back unexpectedly, waving his other arm in a great arc to indicate the Beast.  “Welcome to the Giant Sheikah Camel!”

“ _No._ ” Impa placed her hands on her hips, glaring at her comrade.

“What?” he tilted his head, bewildered.

Impa shook her head. “There is no way we’re calling it that.”

 “But it’s so hardcore!”

“Be quiet or I’ll tell Purah you asked her to visit.”

Robbie crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling his nose. “Hmph.”

Zelda walked away from the bickering researchers, heading towards the opening at the base of the Beast. Sheikah trailed in and out of it, some of them carrying debris, some of them carrying tools, others still carrying bundles of journals to record their findings. She stepped around them until she had reached the mawing entrance, looking up at it with awe. Her jaw had fallen open, but she couldn’t bring herself to close it, enthralled by the miracle of craftsmanship that surrounded her. She took another step, her shoes ringing against the metallic floor, and she felt the sound thrum through her limbs and bones.

Inside there was a maze of doors and rooms and corridors, all connecting to a massive cavern in the center. She could see a collection of oddly placed stairwells within, and a platform on the middle that housed a large, bulbous structure of some kind. She made her way through the researchers and towards that hub, her fingers tingling as anticipation and excitement surged through her veins. She was aware that Impa and Robbie had started following her at some point when she heard their footsteps on the iron floor behind her. They did not move to keep her from the access, and she didn’t dare turn to ask permission, lest she give them a chance to deny her. When they reached the floating platform, she could see that the bulbs of the sculpture were part of a panel with one of the slots the Sheikah had mentioned, the perfect size and shape for the slates. She walked up to it, running her hands along the flat surface, her eyes trying to look everywhere at once. One of the other slates was placed in the slot, the words ‘Waiting for Initiation Sequence’ blinking on the front of it.

She turned to look at Robbie, who was watching her patiently. “So, is this the control panel?”

“We think so.” He nodded. “It’s definitely the biggest of the panels.”

 “We have located several smaller ones,” Impa pointed, and Zelda could see one of them tucked in an alcove at a strange angle, “but none of them react any differently to the slates.”

She held her slate aloft, hovering it towards the structure. “May I?”

Robbie rushed forward, pulling the other slate out of the indent and bowing to her. “Be my guest.”

She ensured that the slate was functioning and on, the blue glow steady as it reflected off her sun-dried skin, and then stepped forward and settled it into place. For a moment, nothing happened, and she tried not to let it dampen her spirits, but a moment later the lights on the console in front of them flashed, illuminating everything in the room for a split second. She had to blink away the daze from her eyes, but when she could see again her slate now had its own words flickering on the front. ‘Authenticating’ appeared first, and the runes on the bulbous structure flared to life. Three heartbeats later, the words changed to ‘Initiating Assignment Sequence’. To their surprise, the slate in Robbie’s hands lit up in turn, and he squinted at it in confusion.

Her slate flashed the words ‘User Detected’ followed by the words ‘User Assigned’, both in short order. Robbie’s slate displayed the words ‘User accepted’ immediately after. Runes around the central panel lit up, spiraling outward to encompass more of the Beast, and there was a cacophony of clanging and groaning metal all around them. Robbie tilted his tablet, trying to examine if there had been any change, and to their immense shock and horror, the room beneath their feet mirrored his motion. Zelda leaped forward, wrapping her arms around the control panel as the world spun upward, her stomach lurching as her feet were sent dangling in the air. The others were not so lucky as to find something to hold, and every Sheikah in the room was tossed to the side, tumbling across the floor as it became a wall.

Her arms ached, burning with the effort it was taking to hold herself still, and as Robbie was sent tumbling with everyone else the Beast continued to lurch, reacting to the movements that his tablet made. She could hear screaming as people fell, and she wished that she could clap her hands over her ears to block out the terrible sound. She would be following them in moments if she couldn’t find something better to hold on to. Her fingers started to slip, losing their grip as the sweat from the palms of her hands spread outward. She looked around, panicked, and she noticed a new word across her screen, with a round red button underneath it.

‘Disengage?’

She flung herself upward, reaching for the slate with so much might that she yelled with the effort, and smashed her finger into the red circle.

She collided with the wall and started sliding downward as the structure started to rotate again, turning it back into a floor. She fell about half as far as the others had, the Beast setting itself back to rights before she had crossed the full distance. She scrambled to her feet, looking around frantically, and was relieved to see others rising as well. The room was filled with groans and scuffing feet, and she held her breath waiting to see if anyone had been injured.

Impa was up and rushing between groups of people, her eyes scanning the room with calm authority.  “Is everyone okay?” Those present mumbled assent, and Zelda did not detect any cries of pain that would indicate otherwise. They were all dazed and surprised, but none the worse for wear.

She was breathing a sigh of relief when Robbie snatched her slate out of the slot, stuffed it in her arms, and carried her bodily across the room to the furthest point from the console.

He pointed a finger in her face, somber and stern. “Don’t move.” He rushed back to the console to examine it further, and she looked at the slate back in her hands. She noticed a new symbol on the right-hand edge of the window, a blue triangle just above one that looked like a box with a circle. She tried placing her finger on them, as she had done previously, but nothing happened. She ran her hand over the place where she had been sure she heard a click, and as she passed over the small dial it moved, a small puff of dust falling as it rotated from its place. She had never been able to get it to budge before, and she wondered if her near fall earlier had knocked it enough to dislodge the ancient rust that had been holding it in place. Reacting to the dial, the image on her screen changed to the window view, allowing her to take a picture of time again. She rotated the dial further, and she was presented with another display, with two buttons offered to her, one blue and one red. The blue one had the words ‘Initiate Authorization’ above it, and the red one had the word ‘Disengage User’

Impa returned to her side at the same time that Robbie did, and she placed her hands on her hips as she looked at Zelda. “So, what just happened?”

“I think this one is different than the others.” She held out her slate, so that they could see the new images. “Look, I now have these options, in addition to the picture window.”

Robbie scratched his chin, his eyebrows rising towards the ceiling at an ambling pace. “It would appear as though connecting it to the Divine Beast gave it some spiffy new runes.”

 “So that slate is the key.” Impa narrowed her eyes at it, as though ready to accuse it of treachery for withholding the information for so long. There were not many things that shook the ineffable calm of the Sheikah advisor, but lacking information was one of them.

Zelda held the slate, her fingers trembling as she considered what might happen next. As thrilled as she was at her discovery, she realized that it would be unlikely that she would be able to continue using it to discover more. If this piece was the one they would need to command all the others, then she would need to hand it over to those more capable than herself. Worse, they could tell her father and he could hand it to someone less qualified. Knowing her luck, he would pass it down to a random child in the streets who reminded him of an old friend. Or - the unthinkable - he would give it to that knight.

Robbie cleared his throat. “I think you had better hang on to it then, Zelda.”

“What?” she had not expected that, and in her shock she spoke louder than she had intended. Several Sheikah poked their heads up from their recoveries to look at her with curiosity, and she felt her cheeks color with embarrassment.

Impa nodded. “He’s right. If I am reading what just happened correctly, that slate will be required to grant the Champions control over the Divine Beasts that they are to pilot. If anyone should be responsible for it, I feel it only fair that it be the one who is also responsible for finding the Champions themselves.”

Her chest flooded with pride, her lips splitting in the biggest smile that she had felt on her face in ages. “Thank you. I promise, I will take this responsibility in hand with the utmost -”

“Princess.” Robbie interrupted her, shaking his head and smiling. “You don’t have to prove yourself to us. We already believe in you.”

She had to blink several times to keep the tears from spilling from her eyes. She wanted to hug them, or bounce with glee, or sprout wings and soar across the sky, extolling to the world her newfound joy. She was trusted, and she was trusted without passing through some trial that had no name or instructions. To think that the researchers thought she had worth, thought that she had enough ability to be allowed to help in such a large way. The two Sheikah looked at her with respect, and a fondness that warmed the light in their gaze, and she knew that Robbie was not merely saying so to set her at ease. They truly did believe in her, and believed that she would accomplish what they needed.

If only her father felt the same.

Impa placed her hand on the middle of her back again, guiding her off towards the door. “Come, that was enough excitement for the Divine Beast today, I think. If we are quick, we can make it to the Forbidden City within the hour, and you can tell Urbosa of all that you achieved this morning.”

While she was loathe to leave behind the excavation site and all the possibilities for discovery it held, her excitement to see Urbosa was enough to see that she followed Impa’s urging without protest. Impa offered a tempting prospect, as well, in her mention of telling Urbosa about their exploits. Zelda could remember that Urbosa used to be one of the few adults that would listen to her whenever she was little, making up stories about valiant knights that helped people as they traveled on grand adventures. This time, however, she was even more excited, because the story of adventure she would get to tell was not one that she had made up.

Even better, it contained not a single knight.


	10. There's Always a Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Link and Sota arrive at the Eldin excavation site.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I made it! Another chapter in the bag. I just wanted to leave a quick note to say thanks again for all the comments and kudos, it's been very encouraging. ^_^ Also: hello to all you guys finding me on tumblr! I didn't expect that, but I am enjoying making so many new fandom friends!! <3

Traveling through Eldin was not as easy or pleasant as it had been on his journey through central Hyrule, and Link didn’t know if he even remembered what it felt like to not be sweaty anymore. He knew that the region centered around a massive string of volcanoes, but nothing could have prepared him, mentally or physically, for experiencing the absurd level of heat firsthand. The air wavered in front of him, thick with the high temperature and the pungent scent of sulfur rising from the caverns that dotted the surface of the mountains. His legs had minor burns from the buckles in his saddle brushing against him, the overheated metal leaving red marks like miniature sunburns across his calves. The real kicker had been when his pants had caught fire, and he had rolled on the ground like a fish in a sizzling pan, swatting at his legs in the vain hope that he could put out the flames. He was given yet another reason to be thankful for Sota, who had doused him with a spare skin of water and produced fireproof elixirs from his pack, announcing that he’d had a feeling that they might need them. When questioned why he hadn’t offered them _before_ he had caught on fire, Sota just grinned and said he forgot.

He hoped fervently that the Princess was faring better on her trip. 

It had taken them the better part of two weeks to traverse the mountains and arrive at the excavation site, which was a great patch of hollowed mountain, surrounded by lava flows that the excavation crews had diverted with thick sheets of metal. They left their horses in the stables set up by the rim and descended further into the pit, where the guard had said one of the researchers was waiting for them. There was debris everywhere, with a flurry of people busying themselves with hauling it out of the way, forcing the travelers to step aside as Sheikah with armfuls of volcanic rock came shuffling past. There were also what the guards had called “cooling stations” set up along the path to the center, which had turned out to be tables with pitchers of hydromelon juice kept cold by the blizzard rods shoved inside of them. Link and Sota were nearly abusive in their use of them, guzzling several cups a piece at each stop, but he couldn’t help himself. It was hot, and his feet ached from stomping across the rocky ground, and even though he had used the elixir, it still felt like he might burst into flames again at any moment. The juice didn’t get rid of those problems, but it certainly helped.

They rose over one of the hills at the rim of the hollow, and over the edge Link could see the massive lake of churning magma in the center. Black stone surrounded it, shores of death that had once been living lava, now serving as a barrier between the infernal heat and the rest of the world. Next to it, perched as though ready to scamper away, was a massive _thing_ made of more metal than he would have guessed even existed in Hyrule. It had four limbs jutting from its hulking frame, and a tail that resembled a hammer curved away from its end. He blinked at it, wondering what kind of people could have even thought up something so insane, let alone had the ability to bring it to life. To call it a Divine Beast seemed a mistake, to him. He supposed, if he squinted, it looked like an animal of some kind, but to him it didn’t look holy in the least. Staring at it, he thought of destruction, and war; of people desperate enough to imagine monsters and forge them with the fires of their forge. If the Goddess had blessed them and their creations, she had done so subtly, and without the grace that could be seen in other things attributed to her name.

He realized that he had been staring rather than paying attention to where he was going when he ran into someone, stumbling backwards from the collision to fall on his rear end. He winced, feeling the searing stone like a bite against his skin, and he looked up through the acidic air to see a Sheikah with glasses blinking at him in surprise.

 “Snap!” she put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. “You’re here!”

He scrambled to his feet, dusting his hands off on his pants as best he could. “Uh, hello, I’m -”

“Link, right?” she reached out and slapped the palm of his hand without preamble, and he found himself staring at it in confusion. “Yeah, they told me you would be here. For the Champion hunt, right? Took you long enough. I was worried we would have to start dredging the lava flows for your bones.”

Sota crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his hip to the side as he grinned at her. “You’re cheerful.”

 “You’re…unknown.” She frowned at him, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Nobody said anything about you.”

Sota placed the back of his hand on his forehead, feigning despair. “Alas, I am but a background character, unimportant to this story.”

“What?” she Sheikah looked at him like he had sprouted a second head, and Link didn’t blame her for the confusion.

He elbowed his friend in the ribs, then nodded his head cordially to the woman. “This is Sota, he’s helping me in my search.”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re weird, Sota.”

“So are you.” He shot back, though his words held more amusement than hostility.

Link could see that the conversation was going to go nowhere fast, so he interjected himself to steer things back towards a more productive course. “Okay, so, you’re Purah, right? The guards at the front said we should come talk to you…?”

Purah nodded, snapping her fingers. “Yes, definitely. Okay, so here’s the deal, Knight Boy. I’ve been working with this thing for a while. It’s like my baby.”

Sota snorted. “That’s a _big_ baby.” Link glared at him, hoping Purah hadn’t found it offensive, but it seemed she hadn’t heard it, as she continued blithely as though nothing had happened.

“My baby is almost ready to be piloted, and so I’m counting on _you_ to bring me someone good for my baby. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He cleared his throat, looking at the hunk of machinery and trying to imagine Purah caring for it. “Do you, um, have any preferences for the pilot for your…uh, baby?”

She threw her hands up in the air, waving them in excitement. “Big! Strong! And don’t bring me a lummox who can’t tell the difference between a sword and a pen. These controls are complex, so they’ll take skill to use. Theoretically, anyways. Technically we haven’t turned it on, but I’m sure I’m right.”

Sota snorted again. “Of course.”

Purah definitely heard him that time, and narrowed her eyes in his direction, though she did not bother with scolding him. “In _any_ case, I hope you’re up to this search. I don’t have time to do it myself, even though that’s what I’d prefer.” She bit her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth as her eyes searched his “You up to it?”

He sighed, wishing very much that he could rewind time and hide under his bed rather than allow the king to see him, if only so he would not have to answer this question for every new person he encountered. “Yes, I promise I’m going to do whatever I can to find someone worthy.”

“You look like you already heard this spiel from my sister.” She smirked, her eyes glinting with a sense of knowing that told him that she had seen the exhaustion in his sigh.

 He could immediately guess who her sister was. “Impa?” he laughed nervously, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “She might have mentioned something similar…”

“Ugh I hate it when we’re the same.” Purah rolled her eyes, shaking out her arms like she had touched something distasteful. “Listen, she’s a big stick in the mud, so I dunno what she put in your head, but I don’t give any snaps about ‘worthiness’. I want someone _capable_. They can be the most ignoble braggart in the land for all I care, so long as they’re on our side.”

He nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“Please don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes, uh…” he froze, trying to think of any other polite phrase to exchange with the other, but his mind pulled up a vast and expansive blank.

“Purah is fine.” She grinned again, adjusting her glasses so that they sat higher on the bridge of her nose. “Supreme scientist of Hyrule would be better, but it’s a mouthful, so let’s stick to the basics.”

“Sure thing, Purah Supreme.” Sota waggled his eyebrows at her, and Link wondered if it would be better to leave him with the horses next time they had to meet with someone that required diplomacy. Or anyone, for that matter.

Purah tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Okay, that’s not bad either, points to you.” She smiled warmly, turning her attention back to Link “Though you _can_ still stick with Purah. Anyways, do you want the grand tour?”

“You bet we do!” Sota pumped one fist in the air, using the other to wrap around Link’s shoulders, pulling him into the moment whether he liked it or not.

Purah laughed. “Snap, I like that enthusiasm!”

She led them on a small tour around the outside of the thing before taking them to a rope ladder that was secured to the main body. They climbed it, the rungs coarse and warm against the palm of his hand, and he marveled at the sheer size of everything. The machine could have easily scaled the mountain behind it as though it were a hill, its legs alone taller than any tree or building Link had ever seen. The castle was perhaps comparable in size, but that was a place that had a purpose that he understood. People lived there, built entire lives beneath the stone walls and waving flags. This thing had been made to…to what? It was supposed to fight the Calamity, but it didn’t look like any weapon he had ever heard of. The pictures in the notes had shown red lines coming out of the tips of the Beasts, but that did little to explain what they were supposed to symbolize. He couldn’t wrap his head around something so large being so incomprehensible.

At the top of the ladder they ascended a small ramp into a structure that could only be described as perplexing. There were rooms and corridors that didn’t seem to have been built with any kind of logic that Link could understand, and a long cage winding around the ceiling that had no discernible purpose. As they made their way through, Purah babbled about different things that they had discovered or theorized about, but all of it went over his head. The only thought that was clear and present in his mind was doubt that he would be able to find anyone alive that could figure out how to operate this thing. Even if they had all the Sheikah in Hyrule at their disposal and another ten thousand years to figure it out.

They reached the top of the Beast, and a strange bulbous structure caught his attention. He wandered over to it while Purah showed Sota one of the circular platforms where the legs attached. There was a flat, black panel on a pedestal in front of a sculpture that resembled a jumble of hearty turnips. A rectangular object rested in a slot on the panel, and it was glowing with a soft blue light. There were words on the front, blinking steadily. He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment as he tried to remember the bits of Sheikah writing he had gleaned from his father’s books. ‘Pause for Start’? No, that didn’t seem right, it was nonsensical. The first word was most likely ‘waiting’, but he wasn’t sure that he recognized the others.

He turned his head, shouting over his shoulder. “Miss Purah, what does this say?”

Sota and Purah looked up in tandem, then made their way over to where he stood, pointing at the words.

“Ah, the Sheikah slate. It says ‘waiting for initiation sequence’.”

Sota tilted his head to the side, his hair falling away from his brow to reveal eyes full of curiosity. “What’s an ‘initiation sequence’?”

Link shrugged. “I thought it said ‘start’.”

“Here, let me show you what it does.” Purah held up a finger with one hand and used her other to rifle through a small bag attached to her hip. After a few moments, she pulled out another rectangle, identical to the one in the slot. She walked up to the panel and pulled the first slate out, inserting the second one. It flashed another phrase across the rectangle that Link couldn’t read, and the words on the first one changed. After a few seconds the one inserted in the panel showed the same words that the first slate had showed them, ‘Waiting for Initiation Sequence’ written in flickering light.

Link looked from the slate to Purah, then back to the slate. “That’s it?”

Purah rolled her eyes. “Oh, so I’m unimpressive, huh? Dig a machine the size of a mountain out of a lava pit, and still I’m small potatoes to the great knight and his sidekick.”

 “Friend.” Sota quipped.

Purah stuck her tongue out at him. “ _Sidekick._ ”

“No! It’s impressive, really, I just…” Link kicked his toe against the metal of the floor, listening to the sound reverberate through the body of the Beast. “I feel like there should be more to it.”

Purah sighed. “There probably is, but we haven’t quite figured out how to get them to work. Don’t worry, I’m sure a breakthrough is just around the corner. Robbie has been shoving his nose into the possibilities for weeks, and while he may be an idiot, he also tends to be pretty damn good at research.”

“Oh.” Link didn’t know what else to say, so he shuffled his feet, waiting for her to continue. She looked him up and down again, as though making some final judgment over his character now that she had spent an hour or so with him.

“So, you didn’t melt on your way here, and now you’ve seen the mean machine.” She put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot like a nervous tick. “Let me give you a big hint on who I’m looking for the run this thing: Goron! Goron, Goron, Goron.”

Sota’s face broke into a wide smile. “Told you.”

 “Yeah,” Link ignored his friend, focusing on the Sheikah in the hopes that they could finally get back to the task at hand so he could get it over with, “we were thinking that, too.”

 “Good!” she crowed. “But also, bad.”

Link blinked at her. “Bad?”

“Oh, this is the catch.” Sota clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. “There’s always a catch.”

Purah chuckled appreciatively. “He isn’t wrong. So, I was sort of worming my way into getting Elder Valka - he leads the Gorons - to let me run a few challenges, to find a good candidate…only things seem to have gotten _sidetracked_.”

“You piss em’ off?” Sota waggled his eyebrows again.

“ _No._ _”_ Purah sneered at him, snapping her fingers before her face returned to a concerned frown. _“_ Well, I don’t _think_ so. Still, they closed up shop, turned away my people, and put guards on the outskirts. They won’t talk about why, either. The most we’ve gotten is that there’s a problem in the mines.”

Sota pretended to flick dust off his shoulder. “Well, did you check the mines?”

“You have too much sass for your own good.” She stomped her foot, glaring at the pair of them. “Of course we checked the mines! But we’re Sheikah, so they just looked like big caves as far as we’re concerned.” She shrugged, as though helpless to discover more. “We couldn’t find anything we would deem amiss.”

Sota sighed. “So, if they aren’t talking to _you_ , what makes you think they’re going to talk to us?”

“Well,” Purah jerked her thumb at Link, grinning again, “he’s directly from the king, so that helps. Plus, they have a soft spot for Hylians, I guess.”

Both Sota and Purah looked at him as though he were a lamb they were about to lead to slaughter, and he was filled with a sense of unease. “Um, that’s good…I think.” He swallowed, wishing once again that he had perhaps run away with Epona and never gone to the castle at all.

Sota walked over, wrapping an arm around him and pushing him back towards the stairs that would eventually lead them to the exit. “C’mon, Link. You have a date with the Head Rockhead.”

“Snap to it, boys! You can get to the city in an hour if you don’t fall into a lava pit!” Purah called behind them, and Link spared a glance over his shoulder to see her smiling at them, her fingers fluttering as she waved goodbye. “Good luck!”

He was glad that she had wished them good fortune, even if it was only in parting. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that they were going to need it.


	11. Dredge up the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Urbosa doesn't say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, sorry this is two days late. I had a bit of a wild Thursday and Friday, so I got delayed. 
> 
> Second of all, it was brought to my attention that I maybe made a mistake in my timeline. I had never seen the reference to Zelda being six when her mother passed, so I assumed it had been more recent, so if I referenced that in earlier chapters and you were confused, that's why. I'M VERY SORRY. I have rectified the mistake in this chapter, and will keep better track moving forward. At some point, when I have time, I'll try to go back and fix any mistakes in the earlier chapters (if I even referenced it) lol. 
> 
> Happily, it doesn't change anything about the storyline I have planned, so it won't cause any delays. ^_^
> 
> Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this chapter. <3

She had sand in places where there should never be sand, and her skin had gone from a sun-kissed pink to a painful red, but she could not suppress the smile on her face as they stabled the horses near the pen full of seals. Gerudo Town, known to many throughout Hyrule as the Forbidden City because of its no-men-allowed policy, was just as colorful as she had remembered. The sandstone buildings gleamed in the early afternoon, shades of gold and blush hewn into the walls like sunset made solid. There were turquoise and blue tiles in varied patterns around the lower portions of the buildings that felt like pieces of the sea hardened by the desert heat. When she had been little and her mother had brought her for a visit, she could remember the tiles being at eye level, and she had reached out to touch them thinking that they were candy. Now she had to look down to see them, and it made her aware of the passage of time in a way that stung. She was feet taller, and years older, yet could not offer much more to her name than had the child shuffling after her parent.

She followed Impa and the retinue of Gerudo guards into the gate, leaving most of their own knight escorts behind, as many of them were men. They were led through the streets, passing by shops with bright awnings to protect the shopkeepers from the dangerous heat of the sun. She could hear the trickle of the aqueducts as they carried the water supply across the tops of the town’s walls. They formed a never-ending stream that served as the town’s veins, pouring from the beating heart that was the rock tower above the palace. She had always found it fascinating how a series of pipes had been arranged to pull the water up from the underground reservoirs beneath their feet, distributing it to where it was needed for the people above. It was engineering ingenuity that was not often found in their time, and unlike the ancient Sheikah machines, this system was still understood and maintained by the savvy Gerudo.

She smiled at the women they passed, but the greetings she received in return felt stilted. The people were not as exuberant as she remembered, some of them looking subdued and drawn. Where once there would have been shouting and laughter, now there was silence and brooding. There were no children playing in the streets, and the food vendors had all closed their shops without offering any signage as to why. The sparse smattering of people that were out and about had dark circles under their eyes, as though they had not been sleeping, and stared at the world as though not really seeing it.

She increased her pace until she could match her stride to Impa’s, and spoke to her in a low voice so that no one but her would hear. “Do they seem subdued to you?”

“Good eye.” Impa nodded, her gaze scanning the city in measured sweeps. “These are not the faces of a prosperous people.”

“Do you know what’s happened?”

“No, but I intend to find out.” Impa drew in a breath, holding her shoulders back as they reached the grand stairway that led up into the Gerudo palace, and the pair of them fell silent as they ascended.

The palace was modest when compared to the architectural wonder that was Hyrule castle, but it was made to be impressive by its intricacies rather than size. The tiles were mosaics that had been crafted by hand, each stone polished and placed in the exact spot that it needed to be to complete the pattern. Columns supporting the wide ceiling were carved with runes that told the story of their people, proclaiming the virtues of the heroes from their past as well as warning of their follies. Outlets for the waterways were worked in and out of each room, as well, so that the gentle gurgle of the stream filled the air like music. The throne room, the largest of the rooms in the building, was just inside the main entrance, as the Gerudo believed that the people should have direct access to their chief when needed.

Lady Urbosa Riju was seated on her throne at the back of the room, legs crossed so that one heeled foot extended into the air. Her skin glistened with a dusky tan in the shadowed room, the sunlight filtering in through the windows behind her picking up the flecks of light in the golden jewelry draped around her neck. Her hair, the color of living fire, haloed her head in voluminous waves, bound back from her face with an exquisite band. She was still, unmoving as she surveyed the room before her, her face a mask of somber dedication beneath the glamorous makeup. She looked as though she were a statue, carved as a paragon of power and authority, her bare stomach and arms exhibiting the muscles that told the story of her strength.

She did not remain still for long, however, for as soon as she saw who had entered, she leaped to her feet. Her heels clicked across the floor as she raced towards them, sweeping Zelda up in a crushing hug within the span of a few heartbeats. She was pulled off her feet and spun in a circle as she wrapped her arms around her family friend, burying her face in the woman’s shoulder. Just when it reached the point of driving the breath from her lungs, Urbosa stopped, setting her back on her feet.

“Sav’aaq, dear princess.” Urbosa kissed her forehead as she pulled back, bringing a hand up to brush her hair away from her face. “By the Goddess, you look more like her than I remember. Just beautiful.” Her eyes were shining with welcome and wonder, and without warning it was too much.

A storm of emotions started brewing in the back of her throat, and she had to blink away a rush of tears that wanted to pour out of her. Seeing Urbosa again brought back so many memories of her mother that it was like someone was twisting a knife inside of her heart, right in the hole that had been left when her mom had been ripped away. Urbosa smelled like palm fruit oil, like the summer air cracked by lightning and the buzzing of darners in the breeze, like a hundred things that had been so common when she was younger. She smelled like the past, she felt like the past, and the glow in her eyes made Zelda feel like all the minutes of her life had piled up inside her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a croaked and jumbled greeting.

Urbosa smiled, her care plain in every inch of her face. “It’s okay, I know. Come, let’s retire to somewhere more comfortable so that we can catch up.” She wrapped her arm around Zelda’s shoulder, guiding her towards one of the exits to the room, Impa trailing behind them.

They walked through a short corridor until they came to a door draped with gems. There were two guards standing on either side of it, and at their approach one of them moved to pull it open. They nodded politely as they walked past, though the guards did not return the gesture. Inside was a table surrounded with couches that rested low to the ground, piled with pillows sewn out of jewel-toned fabrics. There were a handful of fruits in a bowl on the table, as well as a pitcher of juice that had cubes of fresh ice floating near the surface. Urbosa ushered them inside, waving to the couches in a clear signal that they should sit as she swaggered to take her own place against the cushions. Zelda perched herself at the edge of one of the seats, sinking lower than she had expected as the padding was softer than it had looked. She righted herself, taking a deep breath as she drove thoughts of her childhood back out of her mind as best she could. Her purpose today was not to reminisce, nor was it to wallow, as much as she might wish to.

Urbosa smiled, a tinge of sadness tainting it around the edges. “Sorry if I was too abrupt. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past with the first words out of my mouth.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” She shook her head, her fingers toying with the gilded lace at the edge of a pillow. “I…didn’t expect to miss her so much when I saw you.” It had been long enough that she should have moved past it, yet it still hurt as fresh as the day she had heard. It seemed there were two things in her life that she was powerless to achieve. No amount of prayer would make her mother’s loss less painful, and no amount of prayer would bring her the powers that she had always been told she needed. All else was just vague noise in the face of those two failures.

Urbosa cleared her throat, crossing her legs in front of her. “How have you been? I don’t think I’ve been back for a visit since…your thirteenth birthday? Has it truly been that long?”

“Yes, I fear so.” She laughed, her lips spreading into the same smile that she offered all those who asked her how she was. “I am well.” Urbosa and Impa both cocked an eyebrow in her direction, looking dubious of her answer.

“Is that so?” Urbosa had turned to ask the question of Impa, who was already shaking her head.

“I’m not here to speak on her behalf.” She smiled, rueful and mischievous, which was like kindling to Urbosa’s fire.

The Gerudo Chief rolled her eyes, snapping her fingers towards Impa. “Oh I know what _you_ _’re_ here for. I’ve gotten enough letters that this visit was hardly a surprise. We’ll get to that later, however. First,” she looked back at Zelda, her gaze piercing through the common courtesies that she normally used as a veil to hide her innermost thoughts, “How about you answer that question like you remember who you’re talking to?”

She laughed, marveling at the familiarity even though it had been years since they’d seen one another. “I never could hide anything from you and mother.”

“That’s right,” Urbosa winked at her, a chuckle laced through her words, “and she would be very cross with me if I let you get away with it. So tell me, what’s troubling you?”

“It’s not been easy since mother passed. I’ve been training for years, dedicating myself in earnest for the past few in particular, all in search of these damnable powers that should have been passed to me, but…they still elude me. Father blames me for it. He doesn’t say as much, but he doesn’t have to.”

Urbosa and Impa shared a look between them that was inscrutable to her, and then Urbosa sighed. “He was always a bit of a hothead, but I’m sure that he’ll come around in time.”

“I’m hopeful of this. He is…not the father I remember from my childhood, and I fear that my failings are the cause.” She took a deep breath, letting her regret fall away as her lungs filled, and then she forced herself to look Urbosa in the eye without hesitation. “Which brings us back to the topic of the purpose of our visit -”

Urbosa leaned forward, pointing at Impa with a smug smile on her lips. “I _knew_ you were bringing her as bait.”

“I brought her for a great many reasons, but if you want to reduce it to such then that’s fine.” Impa shrugged, her eyes shining with mirth.

Urbosa frowned, bracing one hand on the cushions as she leaned back again. “I can’t give you the answer that you want.”

“You have yet to give me a good reason why you cannot be our Champion.” Impa said.

“I do not owe you a reason.” Her words carried no malice, though they were firm enough to reveal her resolve.

Impa scowled at her. “You know better than that, my lady.”

Urbosa was silent for some time before she finally answered, her words carefully chosen. “I know what is owed, but I also know what is needed. I cannot pilot your Beast.”

“So, then you’ve heard of the Divine Beasts?” Zelda interjected, hoping to waylay further bickering between them and include herself in the exchange. She was disheartened to hear Urbosa rejecting the offer before she had even been given a chance to make her case, and Zelda wanted to know why as much as Impa.

“Oh, I know about them. I’ve known since you started digging one out of my region. And I know that the Sheikah think I am a good candidate to be this Champion you are searching for.” Urbosa flicked her fingers, dismissing the concept with a scoff. “I’ve told Impa as much, and I will have to tell you: I must decline.”

“I implore you to reconsider!” her fingers balled into fists as she tried to hold herself together. “I’m positive that you are the right person for this task, and I need to find the best people.” She thought her father’s face when he had offered her the task, the hesitation and doubt that had wavered in her eyes. Then she remembered his face when he had done the same to the young knight, how he had looked wistful and proud, how he had looked at the knight like he was capable of anything. How long had it been since her father had turned that hope towards her? “I believe…” she bit her lip, letting the pain keep her from bursting into tears. “I _know_ that succeeding at this task is the only way that I will convince father to trust me again.”

Urbosa flinched, her air of bravado cracking to reveal a sadness underneath that Zelda had never before seen in her. “Rhoam, you foolish man…” she muttered the words, grimacing, before lifting her head to deliver her grief-stricken reply. “Zelda, I wish that I could say yes. I wish that I could give the world to you, but it’s out of my hands. My people need me here at the moment. I cannot afford to accept an undertaking that could pull me away.”

Impa folded her fingers in front of her face, bracing them against her legs so she could rest her chin on them. “It sounds like there’s something you haven’t been telling me in our letters.”

Urbosa turned to the Sheikah and smirked. “You can’t get to know _everything,_ Impa. That would leave no fun for the rest of us.”

Impa snorted. “Well, I’ve come all the way to the desert to get the truth out of you in person, so why don’t you go ahead and let me know what’s going on.” Urbosa hesitated, her gaze darting to the floor to rest there as she weighed the request in her head. Impa feigned a pout, her voice taking own a pleading note that was so overwrought it could only be a caricature. “You wouldn’t want to make dear Zelda’s trip completely pointless now, would you?”

 “You’re a villain, Impa.” Urbosa rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again, which made Zelda breathe a sigh of relief. “Very well, it is likely that it will not be kept secret for much longer anyways.” She leaned further into her chair, throwing her arms over the back of it as she settled into her explanation. “Three weeks ago there was an earthquake in the northern part of the Karusa Valley. A short time after, we noticed people had started falling ill. At first it was nothing serious. Headaches, nausea, fatigue. We thought it was a flu making the rounds. As time went on, however, the symptoms started getting worse. Rashes, fever, vomiting. Bouts of delirium and sometimes unexplained aggression. As people grew sicker, other people grew fearful, and there is a faction in town blaming _me_ for the spread of the illness and my failure to stop it. After we had the first few deaths, they proclaimed that the earthquake was a warning, and that the Goddess has found my leadership unsatisfactory, so has sent a plague to our land.”

Impa laughed with bitter ire. “Well, that’s foolish of them.”

“You know, I tried telling them that, but that doesn’t seem to be what they wanted to hear.” Urbosa shrugged, her sarcasm enough to make Impa laugh again. Zelda, however, couldn’t bring herself to find the mirth in the situation.

“That’s awful.” She thought of the dark circles under the eyes of the people that they had passed, the dour mood cast over the whole city. She hated to think that it was because people were ill, that people were losing those they loved without a culprit to blame. “Do you know what’s causing it?”

Urbosa sighed, lifting herself out of her chair and walking across the room to where fresh water flowed in and out of a bejeweled basin. She plucked a cup from the table beside it and scooped out some of the water, then turned and took careful strides to close the distance between them again. She held out the cup, and Impa took it, examining it before passing it along to Zelda as Urbosa took her seat again. She recoiled as she peered over the rim of the glass, grimacing at what she saw. Within the water were small, writhing particles that disturbed her on a deep, primal level that was driven by instinct far more than logic. Some of them were circular in nature, others were long and thin, others still amorphous and indefinable. She squinted at them, trying to discern if they were moving of their own accord or if it was the motion of the water churning in the glass. There was no way to tell, as each time she tried to concentrate on one it seemed to grow still, while the others around it seemed to come to life, brackish little shapes flitting through the clear liquid. They were the color of pink light flickering across closed eyelids, vivid black with inexplicable ghosts of color always just beyond the edge of focus. It made her stomach roll to think of this being in the water all around them, and she set the cup down on the table as far away from her as she could reach.

“What are they?” she swallowed as bile rose in the back of her throat, acrid and fearful.

“Aside from gross?” Urbosa shrugged, shaking her head. “We have no idea. They started appearing in the water three days ago. I would wager that this is the source of our mysterious illness, however.”

“Which makes that earthquake more likely to be the culprit than a divine warning.” Impa was peering into the glass again, her scowl growing more concerned by the second.

Urbosa nodded. “Yes, I believe the earthquake must have caused damage to the reservoirs.”

“You believe?” Zelda snapped her head up to look at her. “Haven’t you sent someone to look?”

Urbosa shook her head, her eyebrows coming together in an uncharacteristic scowl. “No. It was _demanded_ that I expend our resources to try and purify the water, which has been unsuccessful. I’ve looked myself, briefly, but I couldn’t find anything.”

“Perhaps we could help?” Zelda asked.

Urbosa tossed her hair over her shoulder, clenching her jaw as she considered. “Well…I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Silvotta can’t control where _you_ go, as long as you have an escort.”

Impa raised an eyebrow. “Is that the name of the one churning the political waters?”

“Yes, but I expect you to stay out of it, Impa. I can handle my own.” Urbosa nodded in gratitude, despite her order against any help.

“Of course, my lady. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Impa’s expression told them that she would, in fact, dream of it, and that there was no order that could keep her from acting, should she see a need. “Besides, my place is at Zelda’s side.” The second statement held more truth to it, which seemed to put Urbosa at ease.

“Very well, then.” Zelda wiped her palms on her pants, eagerness making her hands itch. “Would you permit us to examine the reservoirs at once?”

“Of course.” Urbosa raised her hand, snapping her fingers in the air. A guard poked her head around the corner of the open door, and Urbosa nodded at her. “Our guests require a tour of the reservoirs. Please gather an appropriate retinue to accompany them.”

“Sav’da, my lady.” The guard nodded, turning to march down the hall, her heeled boots ringing a curt cadence that followed her exit.

“Zelda,” Urbosa swallowed, her eyes growing mournful and serious once more, “I appreciate the offer for assistance, but I can’t promise to become this ‘Champion’, even if you help resolve the problem.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. I would like you to agree, but if I am to walk away empty handed, then I would have rather done so in the process of helping people.” Her search for Champion could wait. What mattered to her at the moment was restoring the people of this city to the vibrant community that she remembered from her childhood. She wanted to do this not only to preserve the memory that she was so fond of, but to preserve a piece of Hyrule that enriched its culture, to preserve the lives of people that deserved to be given every opportunity for prosperity and happiness. Her endeavors to awake her powers, to earn her father’s trust, those were all to the purpose of becoming a stronger princess, so that one day she would become a strong queen. To become strong enough to fight off the darkness, should the Calamity choose to rise in her lifetime. The point to all of it, the point to any of it, was to help her become the best person to save people. What use would it be if she gained those things by neglecting the very people she would then proclaim to protect? No, even if Urbosa refused, she would be honored to help. That was all she ever wanted to achieve.

Urbosa nodded, smiling at the answer with a look of adoration that once again reminded Zelda of days’ past. “Then we should all be proud of the woman you are becoming.”

She could only hope that would prove true, in the end. Or at the very least, that she could be worthy of the sentiment in those that were closest to her heart. What she wanted most, however, wasn’t pride. What she wanted was to be useful, and she would give everything she had to see that she was.


	12. Way Too Much Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Link and Sota find out about complications.

“I would do unspeakable things for another pitcher of that hydromelon juice.” Sota stopped at the top of the ridge that they were climbing, wiping the back of his arm across his sweat-drenched forehead. His hair was sticking to his face wherever it touched, a problem that Link could relate to intimately, as his own hair was damp and clinging to his neck and forehead.

Link joined him, leaning against one of the rocky outcroppings and trying to catch his breath. It felt a bit like laying against the side of a furnace, and he winced when his elbow touched the scalding rock, but he was too exhausted to bother standing. “No kidding. We should have brought some with us.”

“Back home, I always kept a skin of the stuff strapped around my waist. You never knew when you might need an extra bit of something to get you through the day.” He grimaced, shaking his head so that his hair fell free from his sticky skin, curling from the moisture. “I hated the Goddess forsaken desert.” He sauntered over to lean against the rock next to him, titling his head back until it he was staring at the murky sky.

“Was it this hot?” Link watched the air in front of them waver, thick with suffocating fumes from the volcanoes. He couldn’t imagine that the desert would be worse than this, although if he were forced to live there that would be a different story.

Sota chuckled. “Well, maybe not _this_ hot, but it sure felt like it.”

“Is that why you left?” he looked at his friend, wondering if he would answer the question or evade it. Sota tended to sidestep the truth when it came to information about his past. Link knew that he was from one of the outlying towns outside of Gerudo City, but other than that Sota had been mum on the matter.

“Well, it was _one_ reason.” He pushed himself away from the wall, heading back towards the winding trail with a few lazy steps. He looked over his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Besides, redheads really weren’t my thing.” Then he hopped off the top of the rise and was climbing down the other side. Link sighed and followed him, his shirt sticking to the back of his spine. He was too tired and overheated to care about Sota’s deflection for the time being, and so he refocused his efforts on the trek through Eldin.

Goron City was not very far from the excavation site, which was a small blessing since it was too rocky to take the horses. They had been on their feet for close to an hour when they finally turned a corner and saw the path dip downward into a large hollow of the mountain. Through the shimmering air, Link could just make out signposts dangling above the entrance to the city, the letters on them written in the strange script the Gorons used. One of his father’s books had said the Goron language, like all languages in Hyrule, was a derivative of a type of Sheikah text that was so old no one alive knew how to read it. If that had been true when the decrepit, decaying book had been written, then it was certainly true of today. He wondered how that sort of thing happened. How did an entire group of people get wiped out so quickly so that none were left alive to teach newcomers how to read? And if there was something so bad to accomplish that, how was anyone left alive to carry on at all?

It was difficult to tell what time of day it was, as the glow from the magma around them skewed the light from the sun, but he wagered a guess that it was late afternoon. As they drew close to the town, they could see a handful of Gorons shambling through the streets, stern expressions plastered to their faces as they went. This struck Link as odd immediately, a sense of unease settling into his bones as he watched them go about their business. Every Goron Link had ever met had been full of smiles. If there was one thing you could almost always get from a Goron, it was a smile and a dose of optimism. He didn’t want to generalize, of course, as he was sure there were exceptions, however it remained strange to see the Gorons in the capital looking as though they had been in a dour mood for days.

Sota slowed his pace, holding back so that his steps were level with Link’s. “Wow, I somehow thought the Goron capital would be more…I dunno, _Goron._ ”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” His eyes scanned over the town again as they approached the main gate, and he noticed that several of the shops seemed to be closed, doors shut and barred. “Maybe this mine thing is worse than Purah thought it was.”

“Oh snap, as she would say.” Sota chewed on his lower lip, his voice quiet as they stepped in front of the two Gorons blocking their entrance to the city. The time for speculation was over, as the Goron on the left held out their hand, stopping the pair of them in their tracks.

“Hold there, little fella. Goron City is closed to visitors at the moment. We recommend all travelers head to out of the mountain regions to the stables below as quick as you can.”

Link looked up at him, the Goron a full three feet taller than himself, and he swallowed. “Um, we heard, but I was sent by the King -”

“The king?!” the Goron on the right leaned down to look Link in the eye. “Surely not King Rhoam Bosphoramus of Hyrule?!”

Sota sidestepped and shoved his face over Link’s shoulder, so that he was within sight of the guard. “The one and only. Link is on a very important mission, directly from the king himself.”

The Goron to their left squinted at them, then exchanged a glance with his compatriot on the right. They seemed to have a silent conversation between themselves, leaving Link and Sota standing before them sweating and fidgeting, but finally the pair of them nodded and turned their attention back to the newcomers before them.

“Okay, you can go in. I s’pect you’ll want to be talking with the elder.” The Goron to the right turned and pointed towards a large building at the back of town, across several bridges spanning rivers of lava. “If you go straight back through the main road, you’ll find yourself at the Elder’s hall. Ask to speak with Valka.”

Link smiled, glad that had been easier than he had anticipated. “Thanks!”

They waved to the guards as they entered the town and headed towards the building that was indicated. The Gorons out and about gave them curious looks, but none bothered to offer greeting or disturb their progress. It seemed as though they were all defeated, like they had fought some battle and been driven back. He was sure that, had the Gorons gone to war, the rest of Hyrule would have heard about it, so something else must have been the cause.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Sota glared at a pair of Gorons as they hurried inside, frowns on their faces. He glared not out of anger at the Gorons, but a general displeasure at the situation.

Link shrugged. “Well, we got in, at least.” Sota rolled his eyes, but didn’t offer any further pessimism as they crossed a long bridge above a stream of magma.

The Elder’s Hall was a big, round building situated to the southeast of town, with bright red and orange flags fluttering from poles arranged out of the top of the stone roof. There were also patterns painted across the walls in red paint, though Link couldn’t tell if there was any meaning to them or if they had just been put there for decoration. There was another stout Goron standing in front of the entrance to the Hall, gazing up at the sky with a wistful expression. He sighed, and leaned against a massive axe that was clasped in his thick hands. He looked to be a combination of bored and morose, his eyes on the clouds above as though they might hold some answer to his ails. Link squared his shoulders and closed the distance between them, standing in front of him and trying to think of what to say to earn his way in to talk to Valka.

The Goron sighed, and continued staring at the sky.

Link glanced at Sota, who looked from the Goron back to Link before shrugging and shaking his head, just as nonplussed.

“Excuse me, sir?”

He started, standing up to attention and looking around. He blinked his eyes forcefully, then narrowed them.

Sota raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, sir?”

The Goron glanced down, blinking several more times before his eyebrows shot upward. “Well, it’s a little man. Little men, I mean.”

Link cleared his throat as heat spread across his cheeks, a terrible sensation in the already stifling air. “Um, hello, I’m here to speak with Valka.”

“Oh, is that so?” the Goron scratched his head, looking them over for a moment. Without warning he turned his head, bellowing loud enough that Sota and Link both flinched from the sound. “Hey, Daruk! This little man wants to talk to Valka!”

There was a rustling inside the hut, and a moment later the curtain in front of the door was pulled back just far enough for a massive Goron to poke his head around it, his beard sticking out in every direction that it was able. “What?”

“There’s a little man, wants to talk to Valka.” The guard nodded, as if repeating the explanation settled the matter.

“What little man?” Daruk frowned, looking around in much the same way that the guard had until the guard pointed them out standing in front of the door. Daruk gasped as his gaze settled over them, and he let the flap over the entrance fall away as he clapped a hand over his chest. “He’s so tiny!” his voice was akin to a squeal, and this time Sota started blushing as much as Link himself.

Link had to take a deep breath to keep from stepping backwards, away from the massive Goron that was now looking at them gleefully. He was easily four feet taller than Link was himself, and was built like several trees had come together into one and then gone on a protein binge, which was to say he was the bulkiest person Link had ever seen. His beard was a creamy white color, and his eyes were a dark blue that seemed to sparkle no matter which way they were viewed. He had a mouth built for smiling, with laugh lines surrounding it like rivers of mirth, which Link took to be a good sign. At least, he hoped it was.

The guard nodded again, his stomach bobbing merrily with the motion. “Yeah, says he wants to talk to Valka.”

“You mentioned that already.” Sota quipped, and Link elbowed him in the ribs.

Daruk leaned forward until they were eye level. “Is that so, little guy?”

“His name’s Link, you know.” Sota added, sidestepping before Link could ram his elbow into his side for a second time.

“Oh, where’s my manners? All caught up in your size and I forgot to let you say your piece.” Daruk tipped his head back, laughing as though this were the greatest joke that he had ever heard, and then abruptly thrust his hand into Link’s face. “I’m Daruk, chief officiate for Elder Valka.”

Link took the proffered hand, and Daruk started shaking it vigorously, making his shoulder feel like it was turning into jelly. “L-l-i-i-ink-k.” He tried to speak, but with the fervor which he was being bounced around, his name came out a stuttered mess.

Daruk let him go and he staggered backwards, Sota catching him just before he could topple to the ground. The massive Goron laughed again, slapping his hand onto his stomach in enthusiasm of his own mirth. “Sorry about that, little guy. I haven’t seen a Hylian in a hot mountain minute.”

“No problem, he didn’t need that arm anyway. Probably.” Sota mumbled the words in Link’s ear, and he risked a quick scowl at his friend even as he was helping him stand on his own two feet again.

Link cleared his throat, wiping his hands on the front of his tunic because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

Daruk nodded appreciatively. “Good lad. So, you say you wanna talk to Valka?”

Sota sighed. “That might have been mentioned, yes.”

“Hm. Can I ask what brings you out here with that on your Hylian-sized to-do list?” Daruk scratched his beard, a giant tuft of hair wrapping around his fingers as he did so. The beard could have easily given the King’s a run for his money, and Link marveled that two people could possibly own such a large share of Hyrule’s facial hair between them.

He cleared his throat, trying not to think about beards and focus on reality. “Um, well, I’ve been sent by the King to look for the right person to pilot the Divine Beast, and I - we - thought that the best candidate would be with the Gorons.” Link felt a bead of sweat work its way down the back of his neck, but he resisted the urge to wipe it away, trying to stay as still as possible in order to appear like a person that would have actually been capable of completing such a mission.

Daruk tilted his head. “Divine Beast…wait, you mean that big metal lizard?”

“ _Told_ you it was a lizard.” Sota rocked back and forth on his heels with a smug smile.

Link ignored him. “Yes, that one. I was thinking that Valka might be able to help us find the right person for the job.”

“Hmmm.” Daruk scratched at his beard again, his eyes losing focus as he regarded Link with curiosity. “Well, yeah, he probably could, only we have a few of our own problems right now. I don’t think we’ll be able to help much with the talent search until after things quiet down around here.”

“Well,” Sota threw his elbow onto Link’s shoulder, leaning on him like a table as he crossed his legs at the ankle, “maybe _we_ can help _you._ ”

The guard snorted, and Daruk gave him a pointed look. “What makes you think you can help us?”

Sota clapped a hand to his chest, still leaning on Link. “Why, good sir, is the fact that we have been sent by the King not qualification enough?”

“That’s a fair point. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt none to let you in on the happenings in our fair town. Being sent by the King and all.” Daruk grinned, and Sota mirrored the expression, which left Link trying desperately not to roll his eyes at the pair of them.

“Daruk, you can’t! It’s Goron business.” The guard hissed the words, as though Link and Sota wouldn’t hear them if they were filled with extra air, even though the volume hadn’t changed.

“Now, now. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” Daruk waived off the guard’s concern. “We shouldn’t turn our noses up at an offer of help just because it comes from tiny lads. We’re well past the point of needing to ask for it if I were to put my two rupees in on it.”

“Valka won’t like it.” The guard added, though he didn’t look like there was much argument left in him.

“Valka can bicker with me about it later. What else is an officiate for?” Daruk smiled, then pushed himself between Link and Sota, placing one massive hand on each of their shoulders. “Come on, little guys. You look like you’re ready to turn into chuchus right there in your armor. I’ll give you the rundown over drinks.”

Link and Sota sighed in relieved tandem as Daruk led them through the city towards a small inn. The door was shut and locked, with a sign that Link would have recognized said ‘closed’ no matter what language it was written in. The great, bearded Goron pounded on the door all the same, and an irritated vendor opened the door, mouth open to start yelling. To Link and Sota’s immense surprise, when the vendor saw who it was, he immediately shut his jaw and ushered them in with a smile. They were given a table in a comfortable corner of the bar and offered a selection of juice to cool them off. They ordered, and as the server scurried off to fulfill their request Daruk folded his hands on top of the table.

“Now, I sent several Sheikah away from helping with this problem…I’m taking a bit of a leap into the lava in trusting you little guys.”

“Why us?” Link knew there were probably more productive questions to ask, but he couldn’t help his curiosity.

“Well, to be fair, I wasn’t too keen to send the Sheikah away, neither, but Valka has it in his head that the Gorons have to be the one to solve this problem. Thinks it has something to do with upsetting our ancestors.”

“That’s…” Sota paused, tilting his head. “Well, we don’t know what the problem is, so it could be true, but I’m confident in saying that’s _probably_ ridiculous.”

“It’s shortsighted, but also complicated.” Daruk scratches his chin, and they paused their discussion as the server returned with their drinks, setting them on the table. Link and Sota both grabbed theirs and started gulping down the juice immediately, and he closed his eyes as the cooling effects spread from his stomach out through the rest of his limbs. He drank until he thought he would burst, and then took a couple more sips for good measure before setting the glass back on the table. The tankard was almost as big as his torso, so there was no way he could have finished it, but he had given it his best shot. A moment later Sota set his own mug down, gasping for breath as he had starved his lungs to slake his thirst.

Link cleared his throat, squaring his jaw as he looked back at Daruk. “So, what’s happening?”

 “Well, a few weeks back we started to notice folk were going missing. We sent some search parties down to the mines, thinking that maybe they got stuck in a cave in or some such. We didn’t find our people, but our crew found some new tunnels that none of our miners will lay claim to making. Sealing ‘em doesn’t seem to affect our current predicament, and nobody can find a trace of our missing kin.” He sighed, his hands curling into fists on the tabletop. “People keep going missing, new tunnels keep appearing, and general attitudes keep getting worse and worse.”

Sota wrinkled his nose. “Geez, no wonder everyone looks miserable.”

 “No kiddin’.” Daruk snorted out a derisive laugh. “We noticed that folks tended to go missing after going out at night, so Valka decided to shut down the city for tourism and institute a curfew. No one is allowed out after dark; no business is making any money now that tourism is down. Not great for morale, as you can imagine.”

Link furrowed his brow. “Did that stop the disappearances?”

Daruk shook his head mournfully. “No, not for good. We had a brief respite, but it didn’t last long. After that, people started disappearing out of their beds, and we started finding holes dug right through the walls. None of ‘em made a peep, either, so nobody noticed they were gone until day came and their loved ones never came down for breakfast.”

“So, who’s taking people?” Sota took another long pull of his drink, his eyes somber over the rim of his glass.

“Dunno.” Daruk shrugged. “We haven’t seen hair nor hide of anyone that doesn’t live here, aside from the Sheikah, and we’re fairly certain it isn’t them. Not like them to take people, least not without asking first.”

Sota set his mug down, tapping his fingers against the side of it. “And you haven’t seen any signs of the missing people?”

Daruk shook his head from side to side. “Elder Valka thinks we’ve done something to anger the ancestors, and that they’ve sent some beast called a dodongo after us. Most folk don’t think of it as much more than a myth or legend, something to scare the children to stay in bed at night. Valka thinks otherwise, and he has been pouring over the archives looking for the ways our ancestors might have dealt with it before…” he hesitated, the rest of his sentence dying in the air.

Sota raised an eyebrow. “You look like you might have his answer.”

“He wouldn’t like it.”

“Would we?” Link asked, filled with trepidation at what the Goron was keeping to himself.

“Well, that depends. On if you wanna help.” Daruk ran his fingers through the hair on the side of his head, sending it sticking out in a new but equally wild direction. “Listen, I’m gonna let you two confer amongst yourself. You know our predicament, and I don’t think I need to clarify what’s at stake. If you’re up for helping, meet me ‘round the corner at the edge of the housing district.” He stood, his girth pushing the table out of the way as he did so, wedging Link against it and the back of his chair.

“And what’s in it for us?” Sota asked.

Link looked at him, aghast. “Sota!”

The Gerudo shrugged, smirking. “What?”

 “It’s a fair question, I take no offense.” Daruk chuckled. “You boys find a way to help, then I promise I’ll personally see to it that you find your lizard driver.” With that he turned and left, nodding to the server on his way out and leaving them to consider his offer.

So there was another complication. Link chewed on his lower lip as he considered everything that they had just been told, trying to weigh the pros and cons of their options, but he kept coming back to the same thought, over and over again. He kept remembering the looks on the Gorons that they had passed in the city, the way none of them had been smiling or laughing, how none of them had wanted to wave or talk to the visitors. They were miserable, and it tugged at his conscience in ways that he didn’t expect. He found that it didn’t matter so much anymore that this wasn’t the job that he had signed up for, or that he knew that he was bad at it. What mattered to him, in this moment, was finding a way to help when it was needed.

Sota sighed performed the astonishing feat of finishing the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the table before he leaned back and threw his feet up across the seat in front of him. “If you ask me, this sounds like way too much trouble.”

Link raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“What? Look, I’m just being realistic here. They have nothing to go on besides some holes in the walls. For all we know, they just have some crazy Goron out there murdering people. Even if that’s not the case, even if their Elder is right, then that means we might be up against some mythical monster. So, what then? Do we fight it? Arrest it? Ask it very nicely to please stop abducting people?” he threw his feet off the chair, leaning forward so that Link had to meet his gaze. “And even _if_ we’re able to help - which is a big if - there’s no guarantee we’d actually find a Goron good enough for Purah’s ‘baby’. There’s too much risk in the whole thing. We should just skip out, find someplace easier to start our search, and if we come up empty then we circle back. Maybe by then this whole thing will have blown over.”

“Come on, Sota.” Link half turned in his spot to face his friend, looking him straight in the eye in his best effort to convince him. “These people need help, you can’t seriously be considering walking away.”

He grinned, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he reached over and grabbed Link’s drink, finishing it off before he answered. “I mean, I’m never serious about much, but basically yeah.”

Link rolled his eyes, shaking his head even as he cracked a smile. He slapped his hands on the table, pushing himself up and out of the seat. “Well, you can go looking somewhere else if you want, but I’m gonna stay and help. Even if we don’t get a Champion out of it, at least I can try to do something useful.” He turned and started heading towards the door, and his smile grew wider as he heard Sota give an exasperated sigh behind him.

“Ugh, you just had to be the noble kind. _Fine,_ I’ll stick around. But you owe me!” Sota hopped onto his feet without making a sound, but Link knew that his friend was following as he made his way out of the inn.

They headed out together to find Daruk again, and for the first time in a long time, Link felt like he had a sense of direction.


	13. Flicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the source of the pollution is found.

The sound made by the splashing water was amplified as it bounced around the cavern beneath the city, creating echoes that sounded like whispered songs without a tune. Zelda craned her neck to look up at the ceiling, glimmering with moisture and the faint flicker of crystals caught in the sandstone. Light from the luminous stone lanterns placed in the walls was reflected off the surface of the water, and in turn against everything else, a flurry of dancing blurs that shifted as the water did. The reservoirs and the tunnels connecting them were not decorated in the way that the waterways above had been; there were no decorative tiles, no mosaics of intricate beauty. Still, there was something breathtaking about them even without the embellishments. With the glitter to the walls and the glow all around her, she imagined it to be like stepping into the night sky to walk among the stars.

The reservoirs, of course, were far more practical than that notion. They had been built an uncountable number of years ago, by brilliant Gerudo engineers who had sought to make their people prosper in impossible conditions. They connected with stores of water deep underground, and through a series of piping that used the same forces that kept their feet planted on the ground, they were able to pull the life source from those endless reserves and send it up to the city above. It was all well and good that her eyes felt filled with stars as they entered the gloomy light below, but there had been people before her with less romantic notions. People who had looked at stone and seen purpose, who had looked at the desert sun and the endless heat and said _enough_ , and then they had found a way around it.

She wished that they were visiting such a marvel under better circumstances, and that she had more time to examine it with the attention it deserved.

The guard that had led them down the stairs stopped short, turning as she chewed on her lower lip. “Well, my lady, these are the reservoirs.”

Impa smiled, walking forward to gaze down the long, dark corridors before them. “What she means to say is that she has no idea where we should start our search, Princess.”

“Afraid not, ma’am.” The guard shrugged, canting her hips to the side and relaxing her posture. The second guard in their retinue came to stand beside her, frowning as though she disapproved of the flippancy.

“Hm.” Zelda reached into her pockets, feeling around with her fingers for a moment before she found the small circle of string that she was looking for. She raised her hands, gathering her hair into her palms before she twisted the string around it, pulling it up and out of her face. “Looking in the furthest places would be the most productive. I imagine Urbosa was able to survey the areas closest to the exit when she had been down here before. What do you think, Impa?”

Impa clasped her hands behind her back, grinning as she rocked on her heels. “Excellent strategy.”

Zelda nodded to the guards, and without further preamble they led them back through the tunnels. There were more of them than Zelda would have anticipated, each one long and winding. It would have been easy to lose their way in the catacombs without someone to show them the path, and she fervently hoped that the guards were familiar enough with the layout that they wouldn’t get them all lost. An image of remaining down in the deep flitted across her mind, like a startled mouse. Never knowing the warmth of the sun again, never knowing the brush of the wind. She shivered.

After what seemed an eternity of walking, they reached a set of stairs that led into depths that were pitch black, nothing visible for the eye to discern in the gaping maw beyond the doorway. One of the guards leaned over the stairwell, looking below with a frown on her face, and Zelda thought she saw a flicker of light flare to life below as she did so.

The guard turned back, shaking her head. “The Luminous stones are starting to go out. I don’t think it’s such a good idea to go deeper.”

Zelda stepped forward, laying her hand against the wall as she examined the stairs. She saw several luminous stones come alight at the bottom, illuminating another level of maze filled with the sound of rustling water. The lights were hesitant, swaying like candlelight brushed in the wind, yet they held steady and did not fade to black. She knew that a sensible person would heed their words, would return with better supplies or refreshed lanterns, yet her feet remained rooted to the spot. She thought of the people in the streets, of Urbosa and the tension in her shoulders as she spoke of their plight. She thought of how much was at stake in her journey here, and how badly she needed to succeed. She thought of what her father might say, if he heard that she had abandoned her quest for fear of the dark.

She gave the guards the most cavalier smile that she could muster around her shaking lips. “A little darkness never harmed anyone.”

“Are you certain of that?” Impa sounded more amused than anything else, but Zelda could still hear the trepidation in her voice.

She sighed. “It does not matter. There are people counting on us. So long as there is light, I would like to press forward.”

“Yes, my lady.” The guard nodded, and turned to march down the stairs

The luminous stones flickered as she clicked her feet onto the lower steps.

The air was oppressive as they descended. It was not as she would expect the desert air to be a mere dozen feet below the sky. It was the opposite, in fact, of that they had experienced above ground. There every breath tasted of baked sand, of wind heated by the sun and dragged through the golden grains before it passed through her lips. In the city she could speak of heat, of sweat and toil, of sandals flat against stone and fans passing along a breeze that offered no comfort. The lower they went into the reservoirs, the more the desert felt as though it had been a fever dream. The luminous stones cast everything in an eerie light that made each shadow longer and lonelier than should be, the reflections skittish as they balked in the flickering indecision of the lanterns. Not even moonlight could distort the world as this, and no night could be filled with as much chill. She could not say that it was cold, not like the mountains where her breath became steam before her eyes. Still, she felt the hair on her arms rise, a shiver of icy discomfort working its way up her back from the base of her spine. Here she could speak not of sun but of pale blue, of silent mushrooms with their ghostly luminescence, crouching at the feet of the trees and only visible in the darkness. Everything around her felt clammy, and thick, as though all the water was compacted in the air to make it heavy and sticky.

The luminous stones flickered, and she swallowed.

They had made several turns through the lower level of the maze when she heard it. It was not unlike the sound of a pin drop, only it seemed to have been stretched to the point of pain. Not her pain, not the pain of the listener, but the pain of the sound itself. As though the echo were a cry for help rather than the repetition of the original peal. She turned, looking down a hallway that seemed to descend into infinity, nothing but darkness and eternity at its end. The others continued down their current path, and she was careful to keep them in sight as she tilted her head so that her ear was aimed towards where she had thought the sound originated, listening. There was the whisper of water, the gentle lapping of liquid against stone, the steps of their party as they trailed further ahead, the hum of the lights in the evenly spaced lanterns, the air in her lungs and the thrum in her nerves, and then, if she could just be still, if she could just be calm, if she could just be patient… _there,_ the pin drop that was not. She closed her eyes, taking a step down the hall, trying to conjure a picture of what object could make such a sound.

The luminous stones flickered, and then the light was no more.

Her eyes had been closed, but she had felt the glow disappear, as though it had been pressed against her skin, a safe blanket to keep her warm. The reassuring presence of the blue-green aura evaporated, and even when she opened her eyes she remained plunged into darkness. It was profound, it was all-consuming. It felt as though it was so much more than a loss of light, as though the luminous stone’s failure had summoned a living shadow that sought to steal the world away. She turned, or she thought she turned. There was no orientation any longer, no sense of right or left. Were her feet not still against the floor, she would have lost up and down, as well.

“Zelda?!”

Her name echoed all around her, but she could not tell the direction from which it came. It was Impa’s voice, but it seemed too small, couched in the layers of reverberation as it traversed some unknown distance. They were too far away. How had they gotten so far away? How far was far when the world was so broad and limited? Was the air around her endless or strained, crushing her into a smaller and smaller space until she would disappear like the light?

“Impa?” her own voice was tremulous, a single squeak that the shadows around her seemed to devour with ravenous glee.

She heard the pin drop again, only perhaps this time it was a gong. Instead of stretched out it was smashed, shoved into a span of time too small to contain the metallic pangs. She twisted until she thought she was pointed away from it, away from the long hallway that had no discernible end. She started walking, slowly at first, each step measured and counted. _One, two, three, four._ She heard her name again, further away this time, barely a sound, and it made her heart pound like a drum made of thunderclouds. She walked faster, fear filling her to the brim and overflowing out of her, seething in the inky air. _One, two, three four five._ She could not see herself move, but she could feel it. She could feel her feet on the ground, urging her forward at what must have been a dangerous pace, rushing her past the walls that she knew must be there. She was running now, at full tilt. She wasn’t sure when she had started, but she felt her legs lift and slam into the ground hard enough to jar her bones. _One two three four five._ She couldn’t bring herself to reach out, she couldn’t bring herself to fling her fingers into that horrible darkness in case it led to the discovery that the world had fled and left her behind, to rot in her own madness. Her feet were on the ground, though, and that was something to hold on to. The world was still there, so long as her feet could touch the ground.

Her toe caught on something, a change in elevation that should not have been, and she was sent careening forward. For one long, awful moment, there really was nothing. No ground, no light, no sound but her own scattered breathing and her own frantic heart. Then she was plunged into the cold, into a pool of water deep enough that she was engulfed in full, no part of her free from submersion.

She thrashed her arms, her hair spinning around the side of her face. She tried to push up, but now all her directions had been robbed from her. When they had entered the waterways, she had imagined that she was walking into the sky, and now she had fallen through the space between the stars, into that deep black where no light could reach. There were no ups or downs, no sense or logic. There was only space and murk, dragging her away from sanity. Her chest ached, begging for breath, and she kicked her legs as she tried to keep her mouth clamped shut. She knew that if she opened it to scream then the darkness would fill her, and she would never escape it again.

Salvation brushed against her fingertips, briefly, fleetingly, but enough to give her hope to cling to. She felt something solid, something real, and she swiped her hand back in that direction. She found more, a broad, flat surface, and she pressed both of her palms against it. As much as her lungs were screaming, and as much as her heart was pounding, she forced herself to still, letting the water around her calm. Her stomach started to rise, lifting amid the deep gloom, and it was the only clue that she needed. She used the wall to guide herself, following the direction of her buoyancy until finally, blessedly, her head broke through the surface of the water.

She gasped, inhaling as much air as she could manage, her head swimming with colors that were only in her mind. She rested her cheek against the wall, floating in the cold as she caught her breath. Her hands pressed against the stone, only it didn’t feel like stone. It was slick, and viscous, and she pulled one of them away, holding it up to her face. She could not see it, could not see even a silhouette of her fingers as she held them in front of her eyes, but she _knew_ that something was covering her palm. It was burning, a faint sting like a scrape.

The luminous stones flickered, and she could see.

Her hands were covered in ebony slop, caked across her fingers and sliding down the side of her wrist. She splashed her hand in the water, screeching as she tried to back away from her own limb, but it was no use. The pool was thick with the squirming black tendrils that had been in the cup, writhing all around her and brushing against her skin. She screamed again, lurching backwards until she bumped into the wall, so thick with mire that it felt far less solid than it had moments ago.

She looked up, and above her head she saw the start of a crack, angled into the wall near the top of the ceiling. The luminous stones cast an eerie shadow across the front of it as it wound its way in a downward spiral. She spun around, so that she faced it, and she could see that it ran its length into the water, widening and webbing as it went. It was an inch wide in its thickest spot, and coils of inky black were leeching out of it and into the pool of water, tendrils climbing along the flat of the stone like melting vines. She heard the strange sound again, this time like a violin string snapping, poignant and insistent. She pressed her forehead against the wall next to the crack, tilting her head so that she could level her eye against it. She thought she could see something yellow inside, a glow that wavered like a cat’s gaze in firelight, but when she blinked it was gone.

More of her skin was starting to burn, so she pushed herself away from the crack and took in her surroundings. She was in a small alcove with a large pool in the center. There was a mechanism of some sort built into the wall next to the hallway leading out, and she swam through the pool towards it. She reached the edge, lifting herself out of the water with a sickening gurgle as liquid dribbled away from her. Her hands left black prints on the ground, her clothes were stained and ruined with soil. She reached up and pulled her hair in front of her face, and that too was stained black, like hay stricken with disease. She grimaced, shuddering as she let it fall back to stick against her neck. She tried to ignore the way her skin was crawling, refocusing her attention on the mechanism before her.

It looked like one of the gears that Impa had shown her. It was circular, with cylindrical extensions pointing out from the center in several directions. It was attached to a chain set in a track in the wall, and she let her gaze wander along its length. It extended up to the ceiling, then down around the top of a metal sheet. There were indents at the edge of the waterway that lined up with the metal, just below where it was suspended from the chain.

She grabbed the handles around the gear, pushing up on one as hard as she could, but she couldn’t get it to budge. She felt her palms bruising beneath the strain, but she didn’t let up until she ran out of air again and collapsed against the floor, her chest heaving as her lungs berated her for abusing them so. When she could breathe once more she stood, and she grasped the same handle, only this time she pulled, throwing all her body weight into it until her feet lifted behind her.

There was a great groan of ancient metal protesting its use, and then the gear spun around fast enough to send her toppling to the floor once more. It kept spinning even after she lost her grip, and the chain in the wall was set in motion. The metal sheet above the waterway shook, a flurry of rust particles filling the air like mahogany snow, and then it made a cacophonous shrieking sound as it plummeted into the indents. A spray of water erupted around her as the metal slid into place, dousing her again in the poisoned fluid. She shut her mouth, turning her head away to keep from accidentally swallowing any of it, dreading the potential taste as much as the possible consequences. She heard the strange noise again, as though it were far away this time. She opened her eyes, but nothing was there aside from the luminous stones that flickered in their lanterns.

“Princess!”

The voice echoed down the long hallway leading out of the chamber, panicked and fervent, and she stumbled towards it. She braced herself against the wall and cupped her hand around the side of her mouth. “Impa? I’m here!”

There was silence for a moment, and then a rolling thunder of footsteps. After a few moments, Impa and the two guards appeared at the end of the hall. They paused, tiny figures looking at her with curiosity. She lifted her arm to wave, and that seemed to be what they needed, as they started racing towards her.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” Impa was launching questions at her before she had even stopped running, skidding to a halt next to her and taking her face into her hands. She tilted her face right and left, her eyes dark with worry. “Zelda? What happened?”

“I’m fine. I think.” She brushed aside her mentor’s hands, though she was sure to do so gingerly to avoid getting any of the poison on her. “I think I found the source of the illness.” She pointed at the crack in the wall, and the other women in the room turned to stare.

One of the guards turned to look at the gate in the waterway. “You lowered the floodgate?” her eyebrows rose. “Good thinking, this should keep the poison out until the wall can be prepared.”

“Yes, very astute.” Impa smiled stiffly as she reached around and pulled a skin of water off of her hip before facing the guards. “One of you, please go inform Urbosa of our findings at once, and the other please help me get the princess cleaned up before this substance does any damage to her.”

“You should collect some.” Zelda blurted the words out even as Impa was tugging at the fastening on her shirt, undoing the ties that held it in place. “We should see if we can determine what it is.”

Impa snorted. “I _will_ gather some from the water, and I will do so _after_ I can be certain it isn’t going to eat a hole through your skin.”

She sighed and closed her eyes as Impa emptied some of the clean water over the top of her head. Her scalp stopped feeling like it was being baked by the sun, and she realized that every inch of where the substance had come in contact was burning or itching.

She did not offer further argument as they helped her get clean.


	14. For Science, or Whatever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Link hears many noises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE DELAY. Life happened for a few days in a row there and busted up my writing schedule. BUT HERE, HAVE THIS CHAPTER. I MADE IT JUST FOR YOU. <3

“Yep, that’s a hole.” Sota had his hands on his hips, staring at the gap in the wall with an air of boredom. Link ignored the sarcasm, leaning forward to look at the opening. He got down on his knees to get a better vantage point, peering at the marred stone as though it could explain itself.

It didn’t look like what he had pictured. When Daruk had given them the details of the abductions, he had imagined that the breaches in the walls would have been more violent, in line with the idea of a kidnapper bursting through to steal away the innocent. What he was looking at didn’t resemble that, however. The hole before him was large, and there was no indication that it had been made with any force. There were no cracks ‘round the edge, no pieces of wall fallen from the destruction. The sides around the circumference were smooth, sanded down to the point that it felt like it was a different material than the stone around it. Another oddity was that a significant chunk of the wall had been removed, yet there was no trace of where it had gone. Had the kidnapper taken it with them? Had it been hidden even though the proof of the crime was still so clearly left behind?

“Don’t know how they make ‘em. I’ve never seen a hole cut through stone like this.” Daruk scratched his head, standing next to Sota with a morose expression.

Sota grimaced. “It looks… _melted._ ”

Link placed his hands on his knees, pushing upward so that he was standing once more, frowning at the hole. It did look as though something had melted it away, but that would take an incredible amount of heat. The stones used to make the Goron huts withstood the lava all around them, so it seemed unlikely that there was anything hot enough to chew through the hearty rock wall.

“Well…so it does. Good eyes, little desert guy.”

Sota rolled his eyes, turning a baleful gaze towards Daruk. “I’m not that short, and I’m not in the desert.”

“You sure do like observing things.” Daruk grunted out a laugh, snorting further when Sota scowled.

“Daruk.” Link placed his hands on his hips as he glanced over his shoulder at the massive Goron, interrupting their bickering before it got any worse. “Has anyone tried to test the stone to see if there’s anything…like, left on it?”

“What, like residue?” Sota strolled over to stand in front of the hole, looking at it with interest now. “You know, it would make more sense if it were eroded, rather than melted. I doubt heat could do much, but something acidic enough? That could chew through anything.”

Daruk stroked the hair beneath his chin. “Hm, not a bad notion. We’ve been so focused on the where of it all we haven’t given much thought to the how.”

“Do you think we could send some of this wall to Purah? I know that you guys turned her down for help before, but she would be a lot better at examining it than I would.”

“I think we can slip a piece out to her…” he looked up at the sky, purple twilight creeping over the caps of the glowing mountaintops. “I expect it will have to wait until morning, though. I’ll not risk asking someone to head out with the sun so low, and you little guys should tucker in for the night like the rest of us.”

“So, if we’re staying,” Sota sidled up to stand next to Link, rocking back and forth on his feet as he bat his eyes at Daruk, “what are the chances you’ll offer us some of that famous Goron curry?”

“Curry?” Link hadn’t meant to sound so excited, but the word came out as more of a desperate plea than a question. To punctuate the query, his stomach roared loud enough that the other two turned to look at him, Sota’s eyebrow quirking skyward as he pressed his lips together to keep from giggling.

Daruk had no such compulsion, and threw his head back, laughing as his belly rolled. “C’mon then, the wife makes the best curry in town, I guarantee it.”

He wrapped his hands around their shoulders, guiding them towards his homestead. They spent the next few hours as guests in a bustling family life, full of boisterous laughter that didn’t seem to feel the oppression from the downtrodden state of their city. Daruk had two daughters who had a fondness for wrestling, and his wife Danika was expecting a third child very soon. She was quiet in comparison to the rest of her family, smiling serenely as she puttered around the kitchen in an apron made of delicate lace that looked out of place amidst the other Goron decorations. She had green eyes like summer grass that crinkled around the edges when she smiled, and she wore her hair in a stiff bun at the top of her head. Her stomach was swollen enough that it made getting around the kitchen difficult, and as soon as this became apparent Sota sprang into action to assist, displaying a surprising amount of culinary skill as he helped prepare their meal. Danika grew fond of him, her smiles becoming less shy and arriving more often, and she chatted with him in a gentle, low tone while Link and Daruk watched them cook. She admitted that she was hoping this next child would be a son, which she said with a blush before Daruk announced that he would gladly raise an army of fierce daughters. This sent the girls into a fit of giggles, that somehow turned into an impromptu wrestling session, which ended in Daruk and Link pinned on the floor, the Goron feigning defeat while Link tried to remember how to breathe through compressed lungs.

Then dinner was served, and after taking the first bite he felt as though he had ascended to a higher plain of existence. The spice, the texture, the richness to the sauce - it was downright magical. He ate three bowls before he had to stop, his stomach almost as round as Danika’s. He was sure that he had eaten enough to slip into a deep, food induced coma for the evening, and he could barely keep his eyes open as Daruk led them back to the inn. Danika had stood in the door, waving as they left, and Link had turned to wave back. She hadn’t seen him, and he saw the gentle Goron that had done much to welcome them into her space crumble, her shoulders slumping as a somberness overtook her. He could see the sadness in her eyes as she turned them to the mountains around their house, her hand on her stomach with the faintest tremble. She looked scared, and as Link turned back to face the path that they walked, he knew that he hated seeing her like that, even if they had only been acquainted for a short time.

They reached the inn and said their goodbyes, Daruk arranging for them to have two of the nicer rooms available. The innkeeper wasn’t overly averse to the idea, since tourism was currently closed so he had precious few customers beyond a couple visiting Gorons that had gotten caught up in the travel ban. Sota sauntered off to his room, ruffling Link’s hair for good measure before heading through the curtains over the door and letting them swish closed behind him. He unbuckled his sword, happy to be rid of the heavy thing as he laid it, sheath and all, against the table next to the bed. He felt like his legs were made of lead, but somehow he wandered into his chamber and kicked off his boots, climbing into the mattress that seemed far too large for his Hylian frame. He closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow.

That was when his fatigue evaporated, and he was once again wide awake. He tossed and turned on the bed, flinging the covers to the edge because it was still too hot to consider using them. They had searched the town for the better part of the afternoon and examined all eleven of the holes that had been made by the kidnapper, but that hadn’t given them any new information. Daruk had promised to take them through some of the mines tomorrow, but Link wasn’t certain that would yield results, either. If the Gorons hadn’t been able to find anything in their own investigations, there was little chance that he would be able to.

He didn’t want to fail them, though. This wasn’t some abstract task for honor or accolades, all for a job he didn’t really want. This was a real problem, that had real consequences for the people in this town. Danika’s face as she had looked at the mountains was proof of that. She had spent the entire evening putting on a brave demeanor for them, moving forward with life as though nothing were wrong. It had been nice, and for a brief moment Link had seen what it must be like in Goron city when things were less dire. Seeing her in the doorway had put things back in perspective, though. It reminded him that there was a pall of terror hanging over their heads, the risk of some unknown fate that threatened them all.

He didn’t care if he was the one to do it, or if his only role in the solution was to convince the Gorons to let the Sheikah help. The only thing that he cared about was fixing things, so that Danika didn’t have to worry at the beginning of every night.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying there, staring at the ceiling and pondering his task, when he heard a soft splash followed by a hissing sizzle that faded into nothing. It was quick, so fast that he was certain he had imagined it, but he sat up nonetheless, tilting his ear towards where he had thought the sound had come from. He didn’t hear anything, the air thick with heat so that sound seemed to fall flat against the stone around him. It would have been easy to tell himself that it was a dream, that his exhaustion was getting the better of him and that it was just a sign that he needed to get some sleep. That was the logical conclusion, the sane conclusion, but his instincts said otherwise. He hated them for it, but he had a terrible feeling that the sound was _wrong_ , that something about it was incorrect, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until he had checked to make sure nothing was amiss.

He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, fumbling in the dark until he found his boots and shoved his feet back into them. He stood, feeling his hair stick up at odd angles from a mixture of sweat and static, but he didn’t bother tucking it back into place. He poked his head out from between the curtains in front of his room, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the minute difference in light. The inn was still, full of orange glow from the rivers of magma that surrounded the town, but silent as the other guests and innkeeper slept. It was later than he had thought, judging by the shadows looming across the room and the deep black to the sky through the windows. What time would it be? Midnight? The hour after?

He brushed the curtains aside and tiptoed across the room, taking care to make as little noise as possible. He didn’t want to wake the Gorons and risk getting in trouble for trying to sneak out at night. Common sense begged him to reconsider as he made his way to the door, his faculties of reason warning him that waking someone to investigate with him was a better idea than going alone, but he felt a sense of urgency rushing through his veins that was irrepressible. He reached the door and twisted the handle, wincing as the hot metal brushed against his palm, sinking through the effects of the flameproof elixir so that he got a taste of the real temperature around him. He slipped out the opening, stepping into the oppressive night air, and looked around.

He didn’t see or hear anything beyond the occasional bubble of magma in the rivers. He stood on his tiptoes, straining to look out over the whole town, but everything looked just the same as when he had last seen it. He dropped back to the flats of his feet and crept around the corner of the inn, towards the back of where his room was, hoping that he would find nothing at all when he arrived.

Then he heard it again, the same scraping sound, and he picked up his pace, darting around the corner and ducking next to a rock jutting out of the face of the cliff edge behind the inn. It was dark, even with the orange light provided by the rivers, but he still thought he made out something long and black disappearing around the other corner. It was gone within the span of two heartbeats, but he saw it long enough to know that it wasn’t Hylian or Goron. He was fairly certain it had _scales_ , and even though he wished that he could convince himself he was still hallucinating, he couldn’t bring himself to deny what he had seen with his own two eyes.

He was starting to make his way to the other side of the inn when he heard the rattle of a pebble being knocked loose behind him, and he whirled around to squint along the path. A figure emerged from the other side of the rocky outcropping, and he sucked in a breath and fumbled his hand around his back - where there was no sword, because he had not grabbed it from its post next to the bed. He swallowed and tried to step away, but his foot scraped against the ground audibly as he lost his balance in his haste. He slapped his hand against the wall to keep from toppling over as the figure rounded on him, and he was surprised to see a familiar set of teal eyes glaring at him beneath a dark cowl.

Sota threw the hood off the top of his head, perching his hands on his hips. “What are you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?” Link stood up straight, his voice a fierce whisper as he tried to keep his volume controlled around his surprise. He looked around nervously, his eyes panning towards the corner where he had seen the scaled thing. “We aren’t supposed to be out here!”

Sota crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrow. “ _You_ _’re_ out here.”

“I heard something and came to investigate.”

“Me too!” Sota cleared his throat, brushing his hair out of his face with a quick flick of his hand. “I mean, I didn’t hear anything yet. Look, I just wanted to take a look around, see if there were any clues out here at night.”

Link grabbed his friend’s shoulder, feeling his fingers tremble even as he tried to calm down. “Then did you see it?”

Sota looked at him skeptically. “See what?”

“I saw a massive…tail, or something, just there around the corner.” He jerked his thumb towards the edge of the inn, though there was nothing there at the moment.

Sota jumped, shuffling his feet until he was standing behind Link, gripping his shoulders as he peered in the direction that he had pointed. “Are you _kidding_ me? That stupid dodongo thing is _real_?”

“I don’t know! But I know what I saw, and it definitely wasn’t a Goron.”

“Ugh, gross. Do you think it just eats the walls?”

Link turned to glare at him with reproach. “Sota!”

“What? It’s for science, or whatever.”

“This isn’t funny.”

Sota pulled back a few inches so that Link could see him clearly. “Do I look like I’m laughing?” he smiled, then seemed to realize what he had done, and shrugged it off with a chuckle. “What can I say? Humor is the best medicine.”

Link rolled his eyes, brushing Sota off his shoulders. “Come on, we need to go find that thing, let me just go grab my -”

When they heard the strangled cry carry through the night air, there was no doubt in Link’s mind that _this_ sound was all too real, and even more horrible than the mysterious one. He exchanged a glance with Sota, worry consuming both of them before they nodded in tandem and took off running towards the sound. Something was off about it, something awful and hollow that made his stomach lurch as he tried to think of what it had come from. The cry turned to muffled moans, then faded to something quieter and impossible to hear, but they had been awake enough and aware enough to get a good sense of direction before it was gone. His heart sank when he realized that their harried dash was carrying them over the same path they had initially taken to the inn, right back to Daruk’s house.

Sota was faster than him, and he was up and over the bridge about four paces ahead. The cloaked Gerudo slid to an abrupt stop on the other side, his eyes glued to the path before them, and Link pumped his legs faster to catch up. When he stood next to his friend he followed his line of sight, and the air caught in the back of his throat as horror flooded his veins, icy even in the abominable heat. He could see the tail, the familiar stretch of black scales, only this time it was attached to something much larger, disappearing around the corner. It moved _fast,_ far faster than something so big had any right to, and it was gone between one blink and the next.

Sota mumbled something indistinguishable under his breath, and then he was off again, racing in the direction the creature had disappeared. Link held out his hand, as though to pull his friend back.

“Sota, wait!”

It was too late, he was already halfway down the road, his light feet carrying him with the speed of the wind. Link took a deep breath, and was about to give chase when a cry of rage echoed throughout the little town. He spun to face the noise, and he saw the home where he had just eaten dinner hours before, a gaping hole in the wall towards the back. The sides of the stone were still steaming, and he watched with mounting anguish as he saw Daruk rush out of the front door, his eyes frantic as he looked around. He ran to the hole, spinning in a circle, desperately looking at every corner of the city, and when he didn’t see anything of note he sank to his knees in front of the damage, head in his hands. Link glanced back towards where Sota had disappeared, hesitating as he tried to decide where he was most needed, but when he heard Daruk start sobbing he knew who needed him more.

Link jogged over to the hulking Goron, placing his hand on his shoulder. Daruk looked up, tears trailing from his eyes and catching in his beard. “Not Danika. Anyone but her.”

His heart broke to see the exuberant Goron reduced to such misery. The commotion had started to draw other Gorons out of their homes, peering through windows to see the spectacle, and Link swallowed as he tried to think around his racing thoughts. An elderly Goron tottered out of the house next door, her cane clicking against the stone as she made her way over with a determined grimace on her face.

Link leaned over, so that he could speak low enough that the onlookers wouldn’t hear. “Listen, we saw the thing that’s taking people, and I know which way they went. If we hurry, we might be able to catch them.”

There was naked hope in Daruk’s eyes as he lumbered to his feet, cracking his neck. “Let’s go.”

“Er, maybe weapons would be good?”

“Hurry, around back. I have a stash.” He jerked his head towards the side of his house just as the older Goron reached them. He turned to her, clenching his jaw as he spoke. “Kelva, would you mind keeping an eye on my girls?”

She nodded, stamping her cane into the ground in front of her. “Aye. You bring her back, you hear? You boys bring her back.”

Link and Daruk nodded at the same time, and as Daruk’s little girls hovered in the doorway, he promised himself that he would live up to that demand. He was scared out of his mind, but he didn’t give himself time to focus on that as they rushed to the side of the house and grabbed weapons. Daruk grabbed a hammer that was bigger than Link was, and Link hefted a broadsword that Daruk kept calling a dagger. After arming themselves, Link started jogging in the direction where the creature and Sota had disappeared, Daruk keeping pace beside him, hoping that they would be able to find them again.

Hoping that they wouldn’t be too late.


	15. Still and Coiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zelda navigates politics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol took me long enough, but I finally got this to resemble what I wanted it to XD Hope you guys are ready for....POLITICS.

The glass of juice was too cold in her hands, so Zelda set it on the table. The nights in the arid climate were brisker than one would have expected, and she felt the temperature around her seeping into her bones. Once the sun went down, the heat was leeched out of the baked sands, leaving a flat causeway for the cold winds from the mountains to race through. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared at the fluttering candle in front of her. The dance of light inside the flames felt comforting, an easy distraction for her exhausted mind. There had been too many things to think about during dinner, and she longed for the night to be over, weary beyond measure. Holding council with the leaders of the Gerudo and then trudging off to perform her nightly prayers were the last two things that she wanted to do, but time marched her towards them all the same.

Her skin still felt like it was crawling, a faint burn stretched across the areas that had been exposed to the raw poison, but for the most part she remained undamaged from her plunge into the foul water. It had taken the better part of an hour to get her clean, and even then Urbosa had demanded they bring ice from the storehouse to draw her a bath once they had emerged from the waterways. The ice was one of the last resources the town had for clean water, and she had been mortified that they were wasting it on something so unimportant as a bath, but it had been no use arguing with them. Urbosa alone would have been difficult to convince, as would Impa, but the two of them together were a force that no one alive would have been able to reckon with. She had bathed in the frigid water, getting every inch of her scrubbed until she felt she might erode away, until finally Impa and Urbosa were satisfied and she could rest.

The guards had reported that blocking off the reservoir with the floodgate had resulted in clean water rushing back through the system. Early samples taken showed a drastic decrease in the brackish particles, and they expected their supply to be back to normal within days as long as no other sources of the poison existed. Impa had taken samples of the substance and placed it in small glass vials, stored securely in one of the hidden pockets beneath her suit. Zelda glanced at the place they were stored often, and even though she could see no sign of them, she felt like she could hear the strange pinging from the darkness every time her eyes slid past the area. The sound felt tattooed to her bones, and she could not shake the feeling that an omen of ill portent.

The evening felt full of shadows, even as she stared into the flame. What that meant she could not say, but it left her with an uneasy feeling hovering around the nape of her neck.

The door to the room opened, jarring her out of her drowsy reverie, and the members of the city council filed in, a row of women draped in fine clothing and jewelry that displayed their status without being luxurious in the excess. She sat up straighter in her chair, folding her hands in her lap to keep them from fidgeting, assuming the air and attitude befitting of the princess of Hyrule. It was a familiar role, one drilled into her by tutors and coaches that had filled the hours between her prayers. Rise, pray, lessons, pray, sleep, then repeat ad nauseum. She remembered, briefly, a time where her childhood had resembled something bright and innocent. Where her days had been spent in the garden, her hands reaching for the wings of birds as she perched atop her fathers shoulders.

The flame fluttered as the air stirred with the movement in the room. Perhaps it had only been a dream. She could recall it, with a clarity that was painful as it rested in her chest, yet there was a haze of bliss that surrounded the memories that made them seem unreal. Laughter, weightless and unburdened with the bitterness that she had learned as she had grown older. What a strange sound that would be, to come from her now. After all, the world she knew carried doubts, responsibilities, and the demand for an unfathomable amount of patience. Giggling children, in awe of the world, had no place upon the path she strolled.

The council members bowed politely to her, one at a time, before taking their seats at the table, some of them still carrying their glasses from dinner. She could recall none of their names, but that was of no concern to her. The politics among the Gerudo revolved around wit and savvy, and less around decorum. Forgetting a name was not so important if what was being said carried the proper meaning. Many of the council members carried pleasant expressions across their dark faces, honest smiles beneath the gemstone makeup popular in the region. A few, however, wore stiffer masks, their jaws clenched as irritation flashed in their eyes. The group of stone-faced politicians sat together, a woman with a silver streak in her crimson hair serving as the center point around which their animosity seemed to revolve. Zelda did not need an introduction to know that this would be Silvotta, the woman that Urbosa had mentioned as the chief thorn in her diplomatic side.

A woman with sky blue eyes and a ring dangling from her left nostril smiled as she cleared her throat, leaning forward across the table to meet Zelda’s gaze. “Well, I would like to steal the honor of the first word, if I may, so that I may extend my sincere gratitude to the princess. You have done us a great service, my lady.” She dipped her head low towards the table, a gracious bow that the other council members mirrored. Zelda watched Silvotta out of the corner of her eye, and noticed that she did not drop as far down as the rest. It was a minor detail, something that would hardly be of note in other circumstances, but in politics could mean everything. In a room full of snakes, it is the one still and coiled that must be watched most closely, or so her tutors would have her believe.

Urbosa leaned back in her chair, resting her cheek in the crook of her hand. “The Gerudo people thank you for your wit and bravery, Princess Zelda.”

“Oh, it was -”

“I had heard the experience recounted.” A woman with a stack of gold necklaces obscuring her collarbone interjected, her eyes crinkled with kindness. “You were in the causeways after the luminous stones failed, yes? Truth be told, I hate it down there even _with_ the lights. You have stronger nerves than my own, pale sister.”

Zelda smiled, bowing low to the table in a return of their earlier gesture. “Thank you for your kind words. It was luck that led me to the spot, nothing more.”

The woman with the nose ring snorted. “A luck we were in short supply of, until you arrived.”

“Indeed.” The woman whom Zelda was sure must be Silvotta smiled, but it had a greasy quality to it that felt as unpleasant rolling through the air as the black murk had against her skin. “It seems we have required a Hylian to serve as a Gerudo good luck charm. What an interesting picture this paints of the fortune our fair leader has brought us.”

The council member with the necklaces rolled her eyes. “Goddess save us, Silvotta, must you turn every conversation back to that?”

“Only when it applies.” Silvotta grinned, blinking in feigned sweetness before reaching to sip from her chalice. The women around her hid their smiles behind their own cups, while the others in the room sighed or rolled their eyes.

“I feel as though you have more words you wish to share, Silvotta.” Urbosa crossed and uncrossed her legs beneath the table, adjusting her posture to appear taller in her chair.

“Oh, she has many words, though I doubt many of them are worth the breath that carries them.” The woman with the nose ring winked at Silvotta, who scowled in turn.

“Your concern for breath has never stopped your mouth from running like a stream, Divra.” Silvotta raised her eyebrow, smiling as the verbal jab landed. Divra narrowed her eyes, placing her palm flat on the table, but Urbosa cut across the tension before she could form her retort.

“Ladies, please. Silvotta, I would ask that you speak plainly with me, as always.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, letting it pool against her arm as she locked eyes with the troublesome Gerudo. “If you have something to say, then say it.”

Silvotta shrugged, feigning nonchalance as her eyes flashed with irritation. “So, we have found the source of the problem, but only a temporary solution, and even that required outside help. This was a Gerudo problem, but you were not strong enough to solve it on your own. I believe this lends further evidence to my point: the Goddess is not pleased with your guidance.”

A woman with lavender lips shook her head, scowling. “And what would you have us do about this? Do you wish to fight her for the throne?”

Silvotta glared daggers at the speaker for the span of several heartbeats before she leaned back in her chair to hide the slump in her shoulders. “No, not I.”

Zelda could tell it was a lie, just as everyone in the room would have known the same. Silvotta wanted power, and that desire was naked as it burned in her eyes. The question was, to what extent would she go to take it? It seemed a brazen duel was the line that she was drawing this evening, a boundary which Zelda was grateful for. She would not wish to see such violence, but further than that, she knew that it would be difficult to convince her father to allow her out of the palace again if she were present during a violent attempt at a coup. Attempt would be all it could hope to become, however, which was likely why Silvotta held her chair and kept her blade sheathed. Urbosa had inherited her position, but she was no spoiled queen. She had quelled villains and uprisings more dangerous and brutal than Silvotta, and everyone present knew as much. Silvotta drew the line at a duel because she knew she couldn’t win, which made her less dangerous for the simple fact that she had some sense of self preservation.

“Then rest your cause. Not every problem is an omen from the Goddess, and this one has been resolved.” Divra nodded at her own point, rapping her knuckles on the table to punctuate the statement.

“Yes, resolved by a Hylian. The Gerudo people should be capable of taking care of themselves!” Silvotta hissed out the words, her voice low and furious. There was a murmur of assent from the council members seated around her, and frowns of concern from some of the others. “We do not need the influence of others to thrive!”

“The Gerudo have adopted such an attitude before.” Impa’s quiet voice cut through the room like a scythe, drawing silence out of those gathered as though their throats had been slit. “History shows that it did not serve them well.”

Urbosa’s lips were pursed in a grim line. “Our Sheikah guest is needed to remind us of our own history, it seems. Let us not forget that it was separatist ideals that drove us too deeply into the sands. That line of thinking spawned our people’s greatest shame, and led to the rise of the great thief Ganon.”

“Separation from the world leads to a misunderstanding of it, as in all things.” The woman with the necklaces kept her gaze on the table, her vision clouded with somber thoughts.

“Hundreds of thousands of years ago, yet we are still asked to bear that guilt?” Silvotta looked stricken, embarrassment coloring her cheeks a deep umber.

“If we are to forget ourselves, yes. If we are to push ideals that would repeat that history, then yes. Do _you_ wish to be recorded as the leader that led to the next Calamity?”

Silvotta sputtered, her mouth opening and closing without forming words. Her eyes were wide, and there was a fear within them that made Zelda pity her. She was a political snake, seeking gain and power over the well-being of her colleagues, but that did not make her a villain. That did not make her a supporter of the darkness of old that stained Hyrule’s history over and over again.

“I do not feel as though that is a fair comparison.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and all eyes in the room turned in her direction. She swallowed, summoning all the poise that she could manage, willing her voice to keep from shaking. “As much as I might disagree in the end, I feel that I can understand Silvotta’s point of view. I do not feel it is separation that she seeks, but independence, which is as admirable for a city or culture as it is for an individual. I am honored and more than happy to help in any way that I can, but it would be unwise to rely on my help alone to ensure the safety of such a vital resource for the Gerudo people. I am a temporary asset, while those within the walls of this town could provide a permanent solution.”

Urbosa glanced at Silvotta, who had tilted her head to regard Zelda with interest. The Gerudo chief smiled, relaxing back into her chair with a sparkle in her eyes. “Well said, my lady. There is wisdom in finding a solution among our own.”

“We’ve located the main source of poison, however that does not mean there were not other breaches in the deeper reservoirs.” Zelda placed her hands on the table, lacing the fingers together as she met the eyes of each woman present. “I would suggest the formation of a task force, one which could devote their time to sealing the breaches safely and sweeping the wells for more. If I may be so bold, Lady Urbosa, I would recommend assigning Silvotta to head the task force.”

A councilwoman with an elaborate braid coiled around her head snorted out a sardonic laugh. “Would you, now?”

She bit the inside of her cheek so that her smile would not falter. “Silvotta has shown an enthusiasm for the problem and its solution. I feel she would be most committed to the cause.”

Silvotta narrowed her eyes, her expression hovering between surprise, pride, and suspicion. “It would be an honor to fulfill such a role for our people.”

“A fair idea.” Urbosa tapped her fingers against the side of her cheek, looking over the women in the room as they hung in suspense waiting for her next words. “I agree with the Princess’ assessment. Silvotta, please draw up plans for the task force and have them ready for the council to approve as soon as possible. I would recommend planning not only for the sweep, but the maintenance of any seals that we must apply, to ensure that any further contaminations can be stopped early.”

“Yes, my lady.” Silvotta clenched her fist and placed it over her chest, lowering her head in respect, this time without the sneer behind it. Divra winked at Zelda from her place across the table, and she felt her cheeks heat in response.

“Well,” the Gerudo with lavender lips sighed, placing her hands on the arms of her chair, “I believe we have all expressed our gratitude and ingratitude alike. With your permission, my Lady Urbosa, I would like to suggest that we call it a night so our honored guests can get some well-deserved rest.”

“Agreed, you are dismissed. Any further concerns can be raised tomorrow.” Urbosa stood, and everyone else in the room followed suit.

What followed was a blur of bows and shaking hands as she bid farewell to each of the council members individually. They shared appreciation for her help, and a few had kind things to say about her mother and father. Even Silvotta had a begrudging respect when they parted ways. By the time all of the women had filed out, Zelda felt as though she had been emptied of energy. Someone had peeled away her flesh and scooped out her middle, leaving a husk that could barely stand on its own. She blinked, bleary and dazed, forcing her eyes to refocus as the room started to blur. The candles danced like madness at the edge of her vision, and her lashes felt too heavy to hold aloft any longer.

“The ground would be much softer if you laid down before you fell into it.” Impa was leaning against the wall, smirking at her as she shook her head.

“I’ve no intention of laying on the ground.” She laughed, but it turned into a yawn midway through that shook her whole body with its force. “Though I am tired enough that it is tempting.”

“Here,” Urbosa wrapped a muscled arm around her shoulders, smiling down at her, “let me show you to your -”

“No, not yet.” She ducked out of the Gerudo’s embrace, tapping her palm against her cheek in an effort to rouse herself. “It is already past time that I should have started my prayers, I cannot delay it any longer.”

Impa and Urbosa both frowned in such a way that they looked like a strange mirror of one another, their lips synchronized into the exact same expression of worried disapproval. They offered no further argument, however, and left her to her own devices. She left the room, walking down the hall with as much energy as she could must in the hopes that a brisk pace would awaken her mind.

She had accomplished much this day, so perhaps her dedication to the Goddess at the end would prove enough this time. Perhaps it was not through prayer alone that she would earn her powers, but through accomplishments outside of the shrines. The dark that she had run through, the dark that still lurked below her feet, would stay with her forever. It would haunt her like a ghoul, trapped in her mind as it swirled within the memory of her terror, the memory of the world disappearing before her very eyes. She had made it through, however. She had plunged into the absence of light and then further into the mire of a poisoned well, and she had come out the other side and helped save a city in crisis.

Perhaps now the Goddess might find her worthy. Perhaps now she would see fit to answer her prayers. The hope was enough to renew her devotion, and as Zelda donned the robe waiting for her inside the shrine, she focused on her task.

She wouldn’t know until hours later that it still wasn’t enough, but by then she would be too exhausted to be bitter about her failure.

 


	16. This Would be How he Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we fight a lizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE. 
> 
> I have not perished, but I have been very busy. I apologize for the VERY LONG DELAY. I can't promise when the next update will be, but never fear I have not abandoned this story. For whatever that is worth lol
> 
> ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ACTION-PACKED CHAPTER WITH A LIZARD.

The moonlight shone like a bead of luminous stone at the back of a fireplace: pale, lonely, and ineffective in the face of the blazing heat around them. Daruk didn’t seem to mind, but Link already felt as though he had been sweating enough to waste the effects of the elixirs he had downed before leaving. He could imagine it leaking through his skin, evaporating in the stifling air and leaving him to roast like a fresh hen. The fact that elixirs didn’t work that way didn’t stop his paranoia from conjuring unpleasant images that only served to rattle his addled nerves.

They had reached a cross in the path, sheer rock walls extending upward around them so that it was unlikely that Sota had pursued the creature beyond the trail. Still, there were two roads laid out before them, and they now had to guess which way they duo had gone. The left looked identical to the right, the stone patterns random but the overall effect the same. A rough symmetry carved through the mountainside, roads meant to be traveled only by those that found them familiar and the rest left to turn back in bewilderment, though even traveling with someone who was familiar with them could not help them in this choice. They stopped, the pair of them breathing heavily as they stared down their options.

“Which way?” Daruk narrowed his eyes at the passages, and it wasn’t clear whether he had posed the question to Link or the mountains. The mountain failed to respond, and Link couldn’t bring himself to say that he didn’t know, either.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, resting his hands on his hips as his eyes darted around the area. If they guessed and got it wrong, they would never be able to catch up to the creature and Sota. They would risk losing not only Danika, but possibly the Gerudo as well. They didn’t have any idea what kind of beast they would be facing, and the only information Link had gathered from his brief encounter was that it was fast and had a tail, a decidedly unhelpful amount of intel. The speed was what concerned him the most, though. Sota could keep up, the wiry man fast enough to put a lazier horse to shame, but the chances of Link and Daruk doing the same were slim. Their only real hope, even with the most haste that they could summon, would be that the harried trio had stopped somewhere. Even then, they were still presented with a ticking clock. How long after they stopped would it take for the creature to kill Sota and Danika? How long before any traces of their passage were gone? Link didn’t want to think about the possibilities, and his mind whirred with anxious frustration as he tried to figure out the best way to choose the path that wouldn’t end in heartache. His gaze sank towards the ground, following the dip in his spirits as his shoulders started to sag.

Unexpected movement caught his eye, and he blinked to focus his vision around the sweat trying to drip into his eyes. There, in the middle of the path to the right, was a small blotch of something that was steaming. Little white tendrils of smoke were curling up from the surface, like sprouts budding in the late spring. He squinted, and he realized that the splotch on the ground was a small puddle of amber-red liquid, steaming because it wasn’t as hot as the furious air around it. He knew what it was immediately, able to identify it because he had been guzzling the stuff for the last few days and would never be able to forget the way the color shined as the potion bottles drained.

Someone had spilled a dollop of fireproof elixir.

“It’s this way.” Link wiped the sweat from his brow and pointed down the path with the puddle, taking half a step towards it.

“You sure?” Daruk looked skeptical, peering down the passage again as though waiting for a sign to materialize. Maybe he really was asking the mountain.

“Yeah. There’s fireproof elixir spilled in the path, and Sota has a million of those up his sleeve. I think he must have dropped some to leave us a trail.”

Daruk clapped him on the back, sending him staggering forward. “Ha! That Sota’s got a sharp wit to him.”

Link didn’t have a response to that, either, but it wouldn’t have been heard as the Goron started heading up the path without further preamble. Link skipped as he rushed to catch up with him, feeling the horrible sense of dread in his chest ease only to leave a pit of fear in his stomach. They continued on in silence, their pace requiring all their breath to be expended on their moving limbs rather than words. They passed through the towering rock walls around them until the glow from the rivers of lava faded and Link could no longer see the moon in the sky. The shadows ran deeper in this part of the mountain, but he could still make out the mouth of a mine looming before them. The world around him had turned to a desolate brown, the colors charred by the kiss of night, but beyond the entrance of the mine it was worse. It looked like the stone had been painted with pitch and left to simmer, a boiling void that denied the very existence of light and would accept none of its illumination.

Daruk sighed, scratching his head as he turned to face Link, who was still trailing behind. “Well, looks like they went into the mine. I suppose you little Hylians don’t see so well in the dark, do you?”

“Uh…not _that_ dark.” Link scuffed his boot against the ground, patting down his pockets in the hopes he might find something to provide a light. He knew that he wasn’t carrying anything, no matches or luminous stone, but it felt better to pretend to look for a solution than to shrug and be helpless.

“Come on then,” Daruk waved his arm and started jogging off the main path, around a side alley nestled near the mouth of the cave, “Got something that might help.”

Link sprinted to catch up, a shiver running up and down his spine as he passed in front of the darkness. He hated looking at it and thinking about it, particularly since they were about to be engulfed in it, so he swallowed and focused on his guide. “Hey, Daruk, if your elder thought it was the dodongo, why didn’t anyone go hunting for it?”

“We _did._ _”_ Daruk snorted, derision and frustration bursting out of him in equal measure. _“_ We searched high and low for the culprit, beast or Goron alike. We knew whatever was guilty was holed up in the mines somewhere, but that wasn’t very useful information. Whatever it was, it was beating us. Couldn’t catch it to fight it, couldn’t collapse the mine around its ears because we’d risk half the mountainside. We’ve been between a rock and a hard place, no doubt about it.” He loped his way to the end of the trail, stopping in front of a stack of wooden crates piled next to pickaxes arranged in a neat row. He hefted one of them in his massive hands, shoving the tip into the top of the crate and prying off the lid. Link saw flickering lights inside that danced against the grain of the wood, and he stood on his tiptoes trying to peer over the edge to see inside, but it was no use. He was too short for Goron sized crates.

He wasn’t kept in suspense for long, however, as Daruk reached in and lifted a jar out of the crate, several sunset fireflies buzzing in lazy circles beyond the wall of glass holding them in. The area around them was cast in a marigold glow, flickering in broad patterns as the captive lights moved. Daruk tossed the jar over to him, forcing him to scramble to catch it. He held out his arms, and it smacked against the base of his palms before rolling upward and thudding against his chest. He lost his balance as he gripped it, trying to avoid letting gravity steal it and drive it into the ground, and his feet shuffled off kilter before he was able to right himself. After a few seconds he regained his composure, the fireflies inside jittering over the disturbance.

Daruk chuckled. “Won’t last as long as luminous stone, but won’t give out on you without warning, either. Come on, little guy, let’s go catch our monster.” Daruk stomped past him, heading back up the trail, and Link gripped the jar as he ran to catch up once more.

They reached the mouth of the mine in short time and passed beneath the threshold without comment. Darkness thicker and sweatier than anything he had experienced before swallowed them whole. The revolving flicker of the fireflies lit up a small circle around them, but only enough so that they could place their feet on flat ground. The passage ahead was indistinguishable from an abyss, and after only a few paces the passage behind assumed the same look. He could feel the air grow dense as only air beneath soil and stone can be, the mountain above instilling it with a sense of gravity that weighed as much as conscience. He couldn’t help but feel as though it was sentient, wrapping around them in coils, a snake yearning to devour fresh prey. His ears pricked with the impression of unseen things watching them, and he had to resist the urge to bat at them. He swallowed, trying to ease the scathing dryness in his throat, trying to breathe around the panic surging through his veins.

Give him fast currents. Give him dizzying heights. Give him unruly horses or beasts lurking in the brush. Give him foes or fire or fiend. Give him _anything_ but _darkness_.

They sank deeper into the mountainside, following a path that curved downward at a steep tilt. He couldn’t see the angle, but he felt it beneath his feet, his ankles aching as his footfalls swerved to accommodate. Every movement they made seemed to be both amplified and muffled. Strange echoes bounced against the stone, some of them easily sourced to their passage, others less obvious. His ears twitched when he heard a strange, metallic thrum. It sounded like someone was ringing a small, rusted bell underneath layers of water. He couldn’t hear any evidence of water, no dripping or rustling as he might have heard in the underground rivers that Mipha had taken him through sometimes. Still, the ringing sounded like it was coming from something covered in liquid, or something that muffled like liquid but failed to drip. He had never heard anything like it, and it made the hairs on his arms stand on end, his skin prickling as he fought the instinct to turn and run.

He wanted to ask what the sound was, to ask if it was some mechanism somewhere in the mine, but he didn’t have the courage to break the forbidding silence between them with his voice. Speech didn’t belong down here, with the ever-quiet stone and the lightless lives led by the creatures Link would have preferred to never have met. Spiders, snakes, things with thick carapaces and a hundred legs all packed on a body no longer than his fist. Maybe it was one of them that had made the sound, a bell tolling balefully for none to take heed.

In any case, Daruk didn’t seem to pay any attention to the sounds that were around them, so Link took that to mean that it must have been normal. A quiet part of his mind warned him that Daruk might not notice much at the moment, as his wife was still missing and in peril, which would be understandably distracting. Link couldn’t even imagine what the big Goron must be feeling. If Mipha or his father had been in Danika’s place…he didn’t know what he would do. He was distraught enough knowing that Sota was in danger, and of course he worried over Danika so much that his stomach was tied in knots. Still, he gained some comfort knowing that those closest to him from his old life were far away, in the safety of their homes.

He felt terrible for taking relief in that, and so he pushed it to the back of his mind, begging his thoughts to turn to the moment at hand so that he could be ready for whatever awaited them at the end of this passage.

The journey came to an abrupt halt as Link slammed into Daruk’s back, bouncing off him and nearly losing his grip on the jar of fireflies. The Goron had stopped flat, his fist tightening around the grip of the weapon he hefted. Now that Link was paying attention, he could see that Daruk had paused beneath the awning of the passage, just before it opened up into…nothing.

It was a huge expanse of nothingness. No walls, no ceiling. Nothing that the meager light of the jar could reach. He stepped forward, moving with the shaking calm of a man unwilling to disturb something far greater and far more dangerous than himself. He came to stand beside Daruk, holding his jar up. They could make out the vague outlines of a stony chamber, the walls and ceiling extending beyond the light’s reach. There were gaps in the stone, rounded openings pitted all over the walls, and Link had a terrible feeling that they were Dodongo-sized.

“Strange…” Daruk ground the word out through a clenched jaw, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the vast darkness in front of them.

Link darted his eyes across the nothing, turning until they rested on the Goron if only to give him _something_ that he could look at. “Did you find something?” It was a stupid question because he could see that there was _nothing._ So _much_ of it, everywhere. His heart jangled against his ribs, his eyes growing wide as he imagined the nothingness expanding, reaching out to them to pull them both in. Link had come from nothing, a small town where nobody had ever heard of him. He had always assumed that he would return to nothing, as well, though this was a twisted interpretation of that notion.

It was what the dark did. It took what was real and it twisted it, turning eyes and ears against the hapless fools that wandered into its grasp.

“Well,” Daruk’s voice jolted him out of his panic, and he shook his head, closing his eyes so that he could blot out the fear and pay attention to his friend. “We should have done ended up at a dead end about five steps back. Pretty sure this big opening isn’t on any of our maps.” Daruk took a step forward, his own gait just as hesitant as Link’s had been. “I don’t have the best memory, but I think I would remember -”

A long, savage scraping sound echoed from somewhere in the abyssal distance before them. Daruk let the sentence end unfinished, his jaw snapping shut with a furious click. The sound repeated, like tattered metal being dragged against wilted rock. Link held up the jar, chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep his breath silent in his throat, but the light didn’t show them anything useful.

A scream resounded through the cavern then, and Link and Daruk didn’t wait to see what it came from. They bolted, their feet pounding against a floor that was smoother than it should have been, with divots that didn’t match the rest of the formations in the higher part of the mine. Link held up the jar, gripping it with both hands as they hurdled themselves through the black, until finally the silhouettes popped into view. It was as though he had summoned the visage from the depths of his nightmares, and he choked on a cry of shock as both Daruk and himself skidded to a stop.

The had reached the other end of the cavern, and against the back wall Sota was standing on a half-raised piece of stone, brandishing his blade at a hideous thing that was so much worse than the endless dark. It was long, like a serpent, with a shimmering black hide that seemed to mirror and multiply the pale light of the fireflies. It had thick legs that ended in wicked claws which scraped against the rock whenever it moved. It was currently raised up on its hind legs to tower over Sota, its great jaws open to emit a low hissing sound. Its head was squared and angular, with eyes that glowed red with blood-fed rage. There were rows of teeth poking out between the rims of its scaled mouth, and nostrils that flared and sent tendrils of steam into the air. It must have been fifty feet long, built like a tree trunk given fluid motion.

It took a step back, hissing louder, and Link noticed that beneath its feet was a slumped object that was at risk of being trampled. He squinted, begging his eyes to work in the lower light, and then he wished he hadn’t. Danika was laying on the floor, motionless and in the path of danger.

A sizzling gurgle rumbled from somewhere in the Dodongo’s chest, and a heartbeat later it coughed out a thick glob of something acrid and sticky from the back of its throat. Daruk screamed next to him, charging forward into the battle as Sota twisted to the right on the other side of the creature. He wasn’t fast enough, not by a long shot, and the viscous substance slammed into his side. He screamed, loud enough and shrill that Link was sure it would bring down the mountains. He jumped, clapping his hands over his ears and dropping the jar in the process. The glass shattered as he watched Sota tumble off the ledge he had been perched on, rolling in the ground and writhing in pain. The fireflies scattered, filling the room with traveling yellow stars that showered the scene in blinking contrast.

The Dodongo stepped back, following his prey as Sota tried to roll away. It lifted a massive claw, talons extending further from the scaled roots as it took aim. It took another step back, its foot knocking into Danika and rolling her a half-foot to the left. It had turned so that Sota and the Dodongo were in front of Danika, so that Link wasn’t sure if he could see her any longer in the gloom or tell her apart of the stone. The creature growled, a horrid rush of air and seething hunger, then it lunged towards Sota to deliver the final blow. It never got that far, however, as Daruk smashed into the claw, throwing it backwards with a shower of sparks as the talons scraped across the metal of his hammer. It shrieked, righting itself with several stomping steps, and Link gasped as the fireflies danced around the air and he saw that the flailing monster was barely dancing around Danika.

His feet were moving without any thought behind them. He slammed them into the ground, throwing himself forward as hard and as fast as he could manage. He ran, and he saw Sota stand on shaking legs to watch him, but he forced himself to turn away from his friend. He would have second, no more than the span of a heartbeat or two before the creature would have trampled the unconscious Goron beneath it. When he was within a few feet of the Dodongo, he dove forward, sliding on his stomach beneath its hulking legs, using his momentum to carry him back beneath its flicking tail. He laid there a moment, staring up at the corded mass of scales above him, swaying to and fro as it balanced and faced Daruk and Sota.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Sota screamed. “Hit it! With your sword!”

Link considered listening to him, but he could tell just by looking at the scales shimmering in the meager light that his sword would do next to nothing from this point in its hide. If they were to kill it, the stomach was not going to be the place where it happened. Instead of drawing his blade, he rolled to the side, away from the tail and towards the direction he thought he had seen Danika slide. There was a mass just to the left, and he got on his hands and knees and crawled towards it. His arms were shaking, his legs trembling, but he willed them to work anyhow.

He reached her, turning her over so that he could see her face. It was covered in a brackish slime that smelled like charred hair. It clung to the side of her face like spider web, covering her mouth, nose, and eyes. He reached over, placing his fingers on the side of her neck to try and feel for a pulse, but it was no use. His hands were shaking too much, and he couldn’t tell the difference between his own heartbeat and what he might be feeling in her neck. He sighed in exasperation, bringing his fingers to her face to scrape away the goop that covered her. It burned, but he ignored the pain, focusing on tearing her free. He could feel his skin thinning and eroding with every touch, getting worse as it clung to him instead of her. He pulled out his sword, carefully using it to scrape the remnants off his own skin before returning his fingers to do the job on her. He dared not take the blade to her, lest he harm her further than she already was. Pieces of her skin peeled away with some of it, leaving patches of raw wound that started to bleed. He yanked the last of it off, throwing it to the side and wiping his palm so that he could slide it underneath her head. He leaned down, holding his ear close to the front of her mouth…

She groaned. A small, whisper of a sound that barely passed any air between her lips, but Goddess bless them all, she was _alive._

He laughed in relief, though it came out as more of a cough than anything else. The Dodongo’s tail ruined the respite, however, as it came crashing down beside them. Link curled into a ball, throwing his arms over his head and his body over Danika as pieces of stone were thrown into the air in all directions. He heard Sota shout something that he couldn’t understand, and Daruk bellowed before the room was filled with sparks again. Link didn’t waste any time turning to see the status of the battle.

He rose, scrambling to the other side of the unconscious Goron and linking his arms beneath hers. He had to heft her twice to get a good balance, but eventually he got the leverage he needed between himself and the ground and he was able to pull her. He dragged her a few feet, then stopped, his lungs screaming for breath. He was not out of shape by any means, but a pregnant Goron would have been a tall order even for those stronger than himself. He took a deep breath, re-centered himself, and then let out a low grunt of exertion as he pulled her another few feet away from the creature.

He felt the creature’s attention before it turned, like a switch had been flipped in its reptilian brain that sent shudders of energy rippling through the air. It whipped its head around, turning away from Sota and Daruk so that its smoldering eyes were pinned on Link, struggling to pull Danika further. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as all the hair on his arms stood on end, every inch of his skin tingling with an urgency that he knew was useless. The Dodongo flipped its tail, sending Sota and Daruk scattering behind it. Link couldn’t tell if they had dodged or been hit, as the flickering of the errant fireflies didn’t offer enough illumination. Even if they had, he wasn’t sure that he could see them, as his attention was fixated on the monster. He was transfixed, frozen mentally even as he struggled to continue pulling Danika forward. It was like watching the last grains of sand drain through an hourglass, ticking away time that had been stolen in the first place.

A tongue that was the same length and width as a rope slipped between the Dodongo’s lips, flicking up and down in the dark air. It was forked, and black, but Link could see it by the oily sheen that glistened across its girth, picking up light that was barely there to reflect it out into the nothing with a purple glint. Its eyes narrowed to red slits, furious at the sight of its meal attempting to slip away. Link saw its chest rise, filling with air, and he knew that he was out of time.

He dropped Danika and jumped in front of her, yanking his sword out of the belt-loop it had been tied in. The Dodongo opened its mouth just as the blade was pulled free, a thick hiss meeting the ring of steel in the thick air. A mass of horribly brackish fluid erupted from the back of its throat before Link could so much as swing, slamming into his shoulder with frightening force.

At first all that he felt was the impact, knocking him back a step as he blinked. Before his lashes had even finished lacing together, however, he knew that was not the worst of it. The metal of his blade started hissing, though the sound was lost a moment later as a lurid scream ripped its way out of his throat. He could feel steam rising off of his weapon and his skin as the spittle ate through everything it came in contact with, burning with a single-minded devastation that was brutality in its finest form. His shoulder felt as though it had been lit from within, shoved into an oven until every muscle, every joint, every fiber of flesh knitting him together became molten and black. He knew that he had dropped the sword by the harsh clattering in his ears, though he couldn’t feel his hand releasing the grip. It smelled like singed hair and melted leather, and his stomach rolled when he realized that at least some of that was what he smelled like as he burned.

He fell to one knee, gasping as he tried to hold in another scream, another wave of pain rolling over him. He bit his tongue, tasting blood, but he was happy to focus on that pain to distract him from the stinging agony across his right side. He felt his skin shriveling around the edges, and he shuddered, his arm limp and useless at his side.

The tail caught him off guard.

It smashed into his stomach, sending him rolling across the uneven ground. He screamed again, but it was muffled and stunted as his breath flew out of his lungs from the cascading impacts. Sweat filled his gaze as his vision wavered in and out of focus, the world becoming dark, perilous shapes that had been sapped of color and meaning. He wheezed as he came to a stop, aching in every place that didn’t still feel on fire. His heartbeat drove him onward, however, a force of urgency still thundering in his veins so that sense didn’t stay in his head for very long. He could no longer tell what was up or what was down, but that didn’t matter. He had one thing that he needed to accomplish, one thing that he had made his responsibility from the very minute that he had seen Danika prone on the floor. His mission was to keep her alive while those better-suited to the task could save the day, and it didn’t matter what it took.

He rolled to the side, lifting his head and trying to orient which direction he had flown. The Dodongo drew in another breath, the sucking sound stealing Link’s attention once more. He swiveled his gaze to the left and skyward, where the creature was looming over Danika, mouth splitting open to deliver another volley. Link had barely skidded a few feet, but it felt like a thousand miles as he watched the threat unfold.

He was up in a heartbeat, three steps forward in the next. He screamed again as his limbs protested, his shoulder vivid agony the color of a sunset whenever he closed his eyes. He jumped, his feet leaving the confines of the ground, and for a moment he was swallowed in nothing. There was no air, no sky, no floor, and no walls. The only thing that existed was the beating of his heart, propelling him through the void until it would run out of rhythm. This would be how he died; adrift and lost, reaching for something that faded when he blinked.

_Darkness_.

The crash into the ground knocked the existential delirium out of his head along with the last of the breath in his lungs. He wheezed as he closed the last of the distance between them, throwing himself on top of Danika and using every inch of his body that he could manage to protect her. He heard the wet, slopping suck of air that hit the back of the monster’s throat, and the muscles of his back tensed as he braced himself for the torture that would follow. He clenched his jaw, biting down on the inside of his cheek to hold in the sob that was rattling around in his chest. Then he waited.

One heartbeat. Then another.

When the third had passed, he risked cracking his eye open, tilting his head to the side in the direction the Dodongo had been. He was surprised to see a red glow wrapped around them, flickering brighter than even the most ambitious firefly could have hoped for. He opened his other eye, sitting up through the crippling pain to get a better look. Daruk stood in front of them, his shoulders thrown back in defiance as a shield of strawberry light emanated from his chest to wrap around the three of them. The Dodongo’s spit was dripping down the front of it, like a sullied pane of glass.

“You okay, little guy?” Daruk half-turned his head, hefting the hammer in one fist like it weighed no more than a trinket. Link couldn’t remember a single word in any of the languages he had ever heard, so all that he managed was a weak nod of assent. That seemed to be all that was needed, however, as Daruk dropped the shield, the acid spit slapping into the ground with a sickening slurp. The Dodongo screamed, thrashing back and forth in fury at having its killing strike waylaid. It took a step back, drawing its shoulder upward as it lifted a claw, its eyes trained on Daruk with murderous intent.

A thin figure that had been obscured by the shadows on the wall flipped out of the darkness, Sota landing neatly on the Dodongo’s square head. The impact startled it out of its threat, and it swayed on its feet for a moment before crashing down to all fours. As it fell, Sota took his blade and shoved it into the top of its skull, all the way to the hilt, between the glowing eyes that were still slits of rage. The Dodongo screamed again, a horrible sound that shook the rock walls around them, and tossed its head from side to side. Sota gripped the hilt, holding on as his feet were pulled out from under him with the force of the creature’s movement. The tension proved too much for the simple soldier’s sword, and there was a loud crack as the hilt snapped away from the blade. Sota flew across the room, disappearing into the darkness once more as the Dodongo spun in erratic circles.

“Sota!” Link tried to scream, but it came out as little more than a croak. Daruk lifted his hand, snapping his fingers and bringing the shield back up around them. The red glow illuminated more of the cave, and through the frantic shadows of the Dodongo’s thrashing Link spotted his friend on the ground, picking himself up with slow caution as he watched the lizard panic.

It stood on its back legs, arching its back at a terrible angle as it used its two claws to scratch at the top of its head. It was no use. With the hilt gone, there was nothing to provide purchase for its seeking limps, no hope to grip it and pull it free. Blood seeped out of the edges of the wound, dribbling in thick rivulets down its cheeks to blot the cavern floor. It blinked, its movements slowing, and they could see clouds of blood pooling in the deepest points of its eyes. It looked at Sota, blinking once more as it settled back on all fours. It flicked its tail, but it was no longer in anger, no longer to damage. It was the movement of an animal wounded, a creature showing its displeasure with those that would have it condemned. Irritation mingling with heavy, heavy defeat. It curled in on itself, wrapping its tail around its head as more blood flowed down along the curve of its eyes as they pulled to a close. The sound it made was between a yowl and a murmur, subdued and thick as it faded in the back of its throat.

Then it moved no more, and the room felt disturbingly still as the last breath left its lungs.

Link rolled to the side as Daruk turned, his worried eyes pinned to his wife. Sota stood on shaking feet at the other end of the chamber and started limping towards them, swatting at the fireflies as they tried to coalesce around him. It took a great deal of effort, but Link managed to get to his own feet, which made Sota grin as he approached. He tossed aside the hilt of the broken sword, grimacing at the sudden movement. He looked battered and bruised, but the smirk on his lips told Link that he was otherwise okay.

Daruk whooped beside them, jumping to his feet. Danika had opened her eyes, and was coughing timidly as she blinked up at her husband. The exuberant Goron grabbed Link, smashing him into a hug that took them spinning around the room, colliding into and then collecting Sota as they went. A bubble of giddy laughter jumped out of his chest as Daruk roared in celebration.

“Thank you! Thank you, little guy! You protected her when I damn near let her get trampled.” Daruk set him down, and Link managed a weak grin.

“It was…nothing.” He wavered, blinking. His eyes drifted towards the ceiling, or where he thought the ceiling might have been if the world would stop spinning. There was a yellow slit, something that widened just a fraction as he spotted it. He thought he saw something in it, something turning, and he had the distinct impression that it was watching him. He swallowed, trying to focus on it. The strange pinging sound was back, the bell underwater that would not cease to toll. It rang and the yellow widened, growing round like an orb. He swallowed, trying to focus even as everything grew dim. “Hey, does anybody else hear -”

He hit the ground without finding the rest of his words, the oblivion of unconsciousness pulling the question away before it could ever be born. The pain, the heat, and the exhaustion were too much. He had reached his limit, and after that he knew no more.


	17. BOOK

Hey all!!!

This is not a real chapter, but a quick update to announce to all my AO3 lovelies that my first novel is officially out and in the wild!!

You can find more information on my tumblr, and direct links at the following tumblr page: http://zombolouge.tumblr.com/ZomBarber

The book is technically dedicated to everyone on AO3 that ever commented on one of these fics. Please know that you were all a part of the creation of this novel, as you were all a part of helping me grow and gain confidence as a writer. 

<3

(also, I will be deleting this chapter when I move forward with writing this story again, so don't think I've abandoned it, I've just been a bit busy) :D


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